A chance to live
by AllieShu
Summary: Harry walks into the Room of Requirement and finds the place where he wants to be the most. In a world where his parents never died Harry is determined to live the life Voldemort took away from him. Just your typical "Neville has the scar" story, but my take on it.
1. Chapter 1: Familiar faces

** Familiar faces**

Harry opens the door and finds himself in a long hallway. He stops. He wasn't looking for anything, wasn't asking for the Room of Requirement to become this place. He was just walking by, thinking about his parents, and the war, and how he was so alone because he sacrificed so much.

Harry is curious, and he starts walking again, wand at the ready. He comes to a room. It's empty, save for a pensive by the far wall, but when Harry comes closer he sees it's not a pensive at all, but something else, that he's never seen before. The basin is large, a meter in diameter, and it's filled with white fog. From the basin, Harry can now discern sounds. Laughter, and himself taking excitedly about a Nimbus 1999. He is drawn in, touching the fog, lowering his arm deeper and deeper. And then he falls, right through the basin and through the fog, noting that his body was left in the room, and then he sees it, a stone cottage in a pretty English village, and then he is inside the cottage, in a bedroom with quiddich posters and muggle movies and red and gold curtains, and there's a boy, a little boy who looks exactly like he did at eleven, and then Harry stops falling. He opens his eyes, and he is flooded with the boy's memories, their minds changing to fit into one head. And then he smiles, because in this world, Lily and James Potter are alive and well.

...

Lily Potter is drinking tea in the kitchen, Harry having gone to bed an hour ago. She tells herself he's asleep, but she knows he's not. Like his father, Harry rarely does what he is told. Instead of sleeping, he invents pranks, or flies out the window on his Nimbus. She doesn't mind, because she knows the wards around the house wouldn't let him go more than half a mile in any direction.

Tomorrow Harry is going to Hogwarts. When he got the letter he was so excited he made them go for school supplies at once. On his list, prank supplies were a number one priority.

Suddenly Lily hears footsteps coming down the stairs. She looks up, and there's Harry. He is looking at her with a sort of awe, as if she were something magical and rare and unexpected. "Mom?" He says, and she says "Yes, Harry, what is it?" And he just smiles and she thinks she must have imagined it. "You should be in bed. Big day tomorrow. You wouldn't want to miss the Express?" He nods, and then he goes to hug her and she hears him say "miss you" and she replies "I'm gonna miss you too, honey".

...

The next day the whole family is at Kings Cross Station. Sirius is there, and a tall bearded man who is apparently Harry's grandfather. It's strange for him that so many people care, when in his own world he had to ask the Weasleys for help. He hasn't stopped smiling since his father tickled him out of bed and gave him the Invisibility cloak.

By a stroke of luck his wand turned out to be the same familiar Phoenix one. Apparently the scar did not affect it's judgment, and Harry is glad. He misses Hedwig, and his Nimbus 2000, and Ron and Hermione, but he knows he will see them soon. He wonders if the sorting hat will know what happened. He hopes not. His actions screamed Slytherin more than his parseltongue ever did.

Now he is in the train, waving at his family from one of the windows. His mom looks a little teary-eyed and his dad puts his arm around her shoulders and Sirius tells her she'll hear from Harry soon enough, in a howler from McGonnagal. Lily smiles then, and as the train starts Harry is filled with a sense of belonging, and all his feelings of guilt about leaving his world and usurping this Harry's body disappear in the face of his happiness. He starts walking, looking for Ron's compartment because he knows his friend won't come sit with him this time. He regrets not meeting Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, but he wouldn't miss the precious moments with his parents for the world.

Finally, he sees it. Ron looks so small and unfamiliar and when Harry opens the door and asks to sit with him the boy looks almost worried. Harry never realized how nervous his best friend must have been.

"I'm Harry Potter. What's your name?" He asks, and for a second is surprised when there's no gasp and no pointing at his scar.

"Ron Weasley. Your parents are aurors right?"

"Yeah. Dad's head of the department. I think he knows your father, Arthur. Doesn't he work in the ministry too?"

"Yeah he does. He says your parents fought in the first war. He says they are Griffindors through and through. I'm gonna be in Griffindor as well, all my brothers are, it's the coolest house. What 'bout you?"

"I guess. Though Slytherin wouldn't be too bad. I know for a fact my mom's friend used to go there, and he's the bravest man ever!"

Ron looks doubtful, unable at 11 to see a difference between "evil" and "Slytherin". Harry doesn't want to argue and changes the topic.

"Have you brought a pet?" he asks, fully expecting to see Scabbers.

"No. I wanted an owl but my parents... Well they don't think I need one so they don't want to waste money on it." He looks uncomfortable and Harry doesn't know what to say. He realizes what this means, that this Peter is still human, possibly still friends with his parents. He tries to remember, sifting through the other Harry's memories. He can't remember Peter ever visiting, and suddenly he sees a newspaper, the Prophet, and 5 year old Harry asking his parents: "Why is Wormtail in the newspaper?", and his mom crying and he realizes that Peter is dead, and he is so relieved and also somehow sad that he won't be able to save him.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking of something" he explains, and is about to add that he has a brown owl, Godric, when the door slides open to reveal Neville." He must be looking for his toad" Harry thinks, when he hears Ron's "Merlin! You're Him! You're Neville Longbottom!" And Harry sees the scar on the other boy's forehead. "Oh no", he thinks, and offers Neville his hand, as though he were ordinary, as though his misfortune didn't lead to Harry's happiness. In retrospect, Harry should have figured it out sooner.

"I'm Harry Potter. Wanna sit with us?"

Neville is surprised. "He's probably never met anyone who treated him like a friend", Harry thinks, remembering years of staring, and gushing, and asking for an autograph. He decides then and there that they would become friends at once, before Neville is left to face Quirrell and Riddle on his own.

"I might, but I have to find my toad first. It's called Trevor, and I think I might have forgotten it in London. Have you seen it?" He sounds hopeful, and as Harry and Ron shake their heads he sighs and moves on, promising to come sit with them if he finds his toad. He never comes, and Malfoy doesn't come either, looking only for the Boy Who Lived. Harry wonders if Neville will fall for the Slytherin's friendship speech.

Hermione however, does come, and Harry asks her to stay. She looks unsure, friendship being, to her, an almost unfamiliar concept, something she yearns for but doesn't have. As she sits down, Harry starts talking about school, and she pulls out Hogwarts: A History and assures Ron that to be sorted, fighting a troll is not necessary. They play exploding snap and when she leaves to let them change the three of them are already friends. As the train stops in Hogsmeade, Harry knows this year will be the best year of his life.

...

Albus Dumbledore is sitting at the high table, looking at his students. He is happy to see them, eager to start a new year and to meet the first years. It always amuses him to learn just how many of them think he is mad. In all honesty, he isn't sure they are wrong. Minerva strives to protect his reputation and deducts points for that kind of talk, but even she has to admit that the Headmaster is rather eccentric, and that state of affairs pleases him.

This year, however, was going to prove to be unusually entertaining, and he might have to forgo some of his crazier ideas. Not only must Albus protect the Stone, but Neville Longbottom is coming to Hogwarts. He doesn't know that much about Neville, not enough to tell the boy the truth, but he knows he has little choice. He hopes the child is a Griffindor, hopes he has talent and courage and the ability to find loyal friends to help him, but from what he heard Neville has no special talents. For a moment, Albus wonders if Harry Potter might take the other boy's place if Neville should fail, but he dismisses the thought. After all, Voldemort did not mark young Harry as his equal, so the prophecy wouldn't apply. Albus sees Minerva lead the first years into the Hall and he forgets, for the moment, the problems of the future, and prepares to listen to the Sorting Hat's song.


	2. Chapter 2: Choices and Consequences

**Author's note: **thank you for following me and for the reviews . I will try to take them into concideration. Constructive critisism is welcome.

**2.** **Choices and Consequences  
**Entering the great hall is always exciting, and it's easy for Harry to gasp with the others upon seeing the enchanted ceiling and to be amazed by the sheer size of it, by the hundreds of candles and the uniforms and the impressive high table. He sees people that died, and he knows, knows that here they must stay alive. McGonnagal sets the Sorting Hat on a stool and Harry still jumps when it begins to sing. The song is familiar to him and his eyes drift over the students trying to see if someone who should be there is missing. Peter's death made him more aware that this world is not the same as his own and the difference may affect the lives of others. He reasons that even if that is true, he is not to blame, but is still very relieved to find everyone where they belong. He can remember meeting some of them, visiting the Diggorys with his parents, playing hide and seek with a bored Cedric. "He let me hide and went away to hang out with his friends!" Harry remembers crying to his mother.  
The Hat stops singing and McGonnagal starts calling out names. When Neville's name is called everybody in the hall falls silent and then they start whispering, and Neville walks to the stool and sits down without looking at any of them, and Harry realizes that Neville has had to live with this since Voldemort killed his parents. For the first time in his life, Harry wonders whether being raised by the Dursleys was really such a bad thing, considering the alternative. It is no wonder that the moment the Hat touches Neville's head it shouts "GRIFFINDOR".  
When Harry's turn comes, he is more nervous than he thought he would be. He looks at the teachers, at Snape, and finds to his surprise that the professor is not glaring at him, but looking at his food. There is something different about the Potions Master, but Harry doesn't know what. Then the Hat is dropped on his head and he cannot see anything but darkness.

...

The Sorting Hat is over a thousand years old. It has sorted many great people: Merlin, Dumbledore, Riddle. It prides itself on being almost always right. And that is why, when Harry James Potter puts it on his head, it is the opposite of amused. Sure, interesting sortings are fun, especially for a hat who has nothing to do all year except talk to portraits and compose silly songs, but sorting someone twice and finding that your first decision was wrong is more that the Hat can bear.  
"You're putting me in Slytherin, aren't you?" Harry asks, and he doesn't even regret it all that much. He knows staying on good terms with Ron will be difficult, but if his mother could be friends with a Slytherin surely he could manage to do the same.  
"I cannot put you where you do not belong, young man. You come here, start manipulating events, and you can still see yourself as a Griffindor?"  
"But I was brave enough to die!" Harry can't give up without a fight." Griffindor made me great."  
"And yet Slytherin will make you even greater. You have a second chance, and you can reach your full potential. You could redeem this house, you know."  
Harry does know. He thinks that he will have to change the curtains in his room, and tell his Griffindor father that he is in his enemy's house.  
"SLYTHERIN" the Hat says, and there are a few murmurs of surprise from the staff and the students alike. As Harry Potter stand up, the Sorting Hat wishes him all the luck in the world. It is true that the boy is brave, but another brave boy once sat on the same stool and went to the same house. Sending Harry to Griffindor now would be easy, but the boy could never amount to anything with such an easy life. So the Sorting Hat sends him on his way, and it does not tell Dumbledore why.

...

Lily Potter met Severus Snape in a gloomy restaurant at the corner of Diagonal Alley 2 months after he was released from Azkaban, where he spent 7 years. She had invited him, and he had accepted, and neither of them had been quite sure it was wise.  
She had seen the photographs, of course, but still they had not prepared her for the sight of the gaunt face and haunted eyes and uncharacteristically short hair.  
"Lily", he said, his voice raspy from disuse. He had said very little since the day he confessed to being a death eater. He had become a servant of Voldemort to avenge his mother and because there had been few other paths for a Slytherin, but after a while he could no longer stand the pointless violence and the crying and the way everyone around him was in love with a psychopath. Clinging to the remains of his free will he had apparated to the Potters' house the night before the attack on the Longbottoms and told Lily everything. She had listened, and had called Dumbledore, and he had been too late to save Alice and Frank but at his trial Lily had testified in his defense and he got a reduced sentence and unspoken forgiveness from Lily. Or so he hoped. She was his best friend, his only friend, and the only person left who still mattered to him.  
"I don't want pity", he said, although he did. He would take anything from her now, any feeling that was not hatred.  
"I can ask Dumbledore to give you a position as a potion's master", Lily answered, ignoring him.  
"He will never let a death eater into his precious school".  
"Former death eater. He will let you teach if you make an unbreakable vow to never harm a student again"  
"Thank you. I think I can find something else".  
"What Severus?" She was angry now, almost shouting at him, wanting him to listen to her "What else can you do? You are a murderer and a death eater and I'm not saying it was all your fault but if not for your pride you would have come to us sooner and Alice and Frank could still be alive! What if it had been Harry? What if Voldemort had chosen us, would you have let me die?" She was standing now, attracting the attention of the people seated next to them.  
"Not you", he said, and knew it was the wrong thing to say.  
"Not me? Well that's a relief. So you would let all of England fall and as long as I was alive you would not lift a finger." He tried to protest, to tell her she was wrong, tell her he had confessed and spent long years in Azkaban, that he had atoned for his sins. He wanted to tell her she was a fool, that it had been easy for her, Dumbledore's star pupil, the Griffindor, to choose the right side.  
He said nothing. He knew Lily, and he knew she understood, and that to her it did not matter.  
"Severus. I understand that Azkaban must have been hard for you".  
"Hard? Impossible. The dementors destroyed me Lily, they took away all the happiness I had, all the good memories, and if I had spent another year there I would have gone mad".  
She seemed embarrassed at last. "I'm sorry. I know I can never imagine what it was like. But you have to understand that this is the best you can do. This job is the best you can do."  
He nodded, bitter and resentful of her, but also grateful that she would still talk to him, and she sat down again and they spent an hour talking about trivialities. As it turned out, Lily's word was enough, and Dumbledore had not enforced the unbreakable vow.

...

"He's where?!"  
"Calm down Sirius, it's not that big a deal, even James accepted it,"  
"Not that big a deal? Are you mad woman? Your son is in that slimy house with those evil death eater children, with Malfoy, for Merlin's sake, and you are telling me to calm down? I'm flooing Dumbledore. That bloody Hat's so old it doesn't know what it's doing anymore! A month there and my godson will be calling you a mudblood!"  
"That's enough. I should hope my son is not so gullible. I wanted him in Griffindor but if he can't be there I'd rather every one of us supported him." James was shocked when he found out, but in truth it does not appall him as much as everyone expects. He comes from an old pure blood family and in every generation there is at least one Slytherin. His own grandfather, Jeremiah Potter, was in that house and he decides to hang a portrait of him in Harry's room.  
Sirius is abashed and glares at his best friends, and Remus looks confused and very tired and James thinks guiltily that the next day is the full moon and they should not be arguing like this.  
"I think everyone could do with a drink" Lily suggests, and a small house elf appears at her side. "Sally, would you open a bottle of wine for us?" She asks, and when the house elf vanishes she adds: "I will write to Severus and ask him to make sure Harry is well treated. He will be quite all right". The marauders display similar expressions of distrust but she ignores them and goes to get some parchment and a quill.

...  
Whatever Harry had been expecting, it was not this. Now, standing close to Snape, he sees the professor clearly and the man does not look the same. He is less sure of himself, less menacing, and his hair, that should be greasy and falling past his shoulders, is shorter and cleaner than Harry has ever seen it. There seems to be somehow less of him, and Harry cannot help but try to imagine why.  
"A Slytherin possesses many qualities. To be cunning and ambitious is not the end of it. You have to stick up for one another and I expect all of you to show brains and obey the rules." He spares a brief glance in Harry's direction but looks away instantly, and Harry is confused. "You will behave as befits people of your class. If you should fail to do so, the repercussions will be immediate. Is that understood?"  
Everyone murmurs "yes" and he continues: "The rest will be explained by the prefects, but understand this: you were taught that you are above the others, that if your blood is pure and your parents rich, then the whole world should bow to you. I assure you, it is not so. You may act in this way in your common room but if you want others to show you respect you must work for it. I will not have McGonnagal coming to me saying one of you called another student a Mudblood." He leaves, without waiting for a response, and Harry is astonished. He looks at the doorway where Snape disappeared and he does not know what to make of him. Something must have changed him, or Lily's influence must have been greater, and Harry feels like he doesn't even know this man. He goes to talk to Draco, and because his father is a pureblood the other boys include him in the conversation. In a few minutes, they are in bed, and Harry tries to think about pranks, and not about Voldemort sleeping in this very castle. "It's not my job anymore" he decides, but he might be lying to himself.


	3. Chapter 3: Slytherins

**3. Slytherins**

Harry wakes up and for a moment he is disoriented. In his dream, he was back at Kings Cross, and Dumbledore was telling him he had a choice: to live and fight, or to die. He didn't have a choice, really. How could he choose to die, when he was so close to winning? Somehow, although he had little to live for, suicide never occurred to him, and not only because of his parents' sacrifice, but because dying would be the same as losing, because it would hurt others like Sirius's death hurt him.

The Slytherin common room is dark, the stone harsh and cold to the touch. Harry is the first to wake up and he takes his books and parchment and goes to the table in front of the fireplace. The fire isn't burning and the room is chilly. Harry sits down and starts writing a letter to his parents. He's never written to them before and the novelty of it strikes him. He wonders what he should say, how he should explain his sorting. He decides to be short and to the point, and takes up the quill.

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_I'm writing to tell you that I've been sorted into Slytherin. I hope you won't disown me!_

Harry pauses. He does not think there is any danger of that, but the memory of the Black family tree comes, unbidden, into his head. In his mind's eye he sees, once again, Sirius, tracing with his finger the lines to where his name used to be and where, now, there was only a burned spot.

_The Sorting Hat said Slytherin will help me on my way to greatness. I never thought I'd be great in the first place, isn't it awesome? The common room here's a bit boring, not at all like the Griffindor common room you told me about, but the Head of House seems cool._

Harry wonders what his Mom will make of that. He hopes she'll be pleased, and that his Dad won't be too angry. Or jealous.

_Please don't hate me, and tell Sirius I won't be like his family._

_Your loving son,_

_Harry_

"There", Harry thinks, "that should do the trick, and it sounds like I'm eleven". He stands up and is in the doorway when Malfoy calls out to him:

"Hey Potter, you sure you can live up to Professor Snape's expectations, your mother being a mudblood and all?" His voice is taunting and Harry is inclined to curse the bastard into next week.

"Well I have a better chance then you, I hear incest ruins all chance of intelligence."

Harry leaves before Malfoy can reply, fearing that another word might make him do something he will regret, and goes to the owlery to mail his letter.

He passes many portraits, saying hello to the ones he remembers as nice, and because they like to chat it takes him half an hour to get to the tower. He calls Godric, and the brown owl swoops down and lands on his extended arm, its beak open and ready for treats.

"Not today old boy, I forgot to bring you anything." Harry confesses, and the owl looks affronted, snapping its beak shut and lifting its wings as though about to take off.

"Take this to mom and dad, will you?"

...

Tom Marvolo Riddle has not always been evil. In fact, when he was five, he distinctly remembers hitting another boy because that boy had stolen Rosie Grant's toy train. He also remembers talking to snakes, and finding that they were his only true friends. He remembers the orphanage, the odd glances he got from other children, the times he got hit with a ruler for things he hadn't meant to do. He learned, then, that the people around him cared nothing for him, that his life was worthless, that he might as well kill them all because they would do the same to him if only they could get away with it. By the time Dumbledore came, there was no going back. Tom learned that the people who hurt him were called muggles, and when he came to Hogwarts he learned that the opposite of being a muggle was being a pure blood, which is what he became. He came to despise those who liked muggles, those who were related to them, those who became them. He came to the conclusion that such people were lower than him, that they were fit only to serve, or to die.

That, in truth, is why he had chosen the Longbottom boy. He had found out about the prophecy and he had thought to kill Harry Potter. "His mother is a Mudblood. By killing him, I will spill less pure blood", he remembers thinking. But in the end, he could not mark a muggle's grandson as his equal. So he targeted Neville Longbottom, and he was so sure he would kill him, and his life fell apart. Now, he must live a half-life, on the back of Quirrell's head, and every hour is a constant reminder that he failed. But never again. Lord Voldemort would rise, and he would kill Longbottom, and no one will say he is weak.

The first years trail into the classroom for their first ever Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson and he hears Quirrell's stuttering: "G-good m-m-morn-ning, everyon-n-ne. W-w-won't you s-sit d-d-d-down an-n-nd op-pen your b-book-ks." And he curses himself for deciding to make Quirrell stutter. He does not think he can bear a year of this. The class is opening their books, turning to page 9 and starting in on the first paragraph. He contemplated teaching them something mildly dark, but decided against it. He is not fooled by Dumbledore's easy manner and twinkling eyes. The old man suspects every newcomer and Quirrell will not be the exception.

As the children settle down, Voldemort can sense Longbottom's presence. He wonders if he can take points for idiocy. From what he hears, the boy is a moron. Severus said nothing but when the others were talking he could sence the Potions master's contempt. "Pity he confessed", Voldemort thinks, " He was amusing once, but now I shall have to kill him too".

...

Draco Malfoy stands in the common room for several minutes, long after Harry leaves. He does not know what to make of him. Draco's father would say that James and Lily Potter are prominent members of the Wizengamot and famous aurors, that their son is a valuable ally and has the potential to become a dangerous foe, but his father is not here and he did not hear what Potter just said. Professor Snape told them to stick up for one another but if Draco goes about it the right way, his Head of House might never find out about his revenge.

He goes to the Great Hall and tries to decide what to eat. Porridge is out of the question, so he takes some eggs and bacon and pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice. More people are sitting down around him, and he takes comfort in the looming presence of Crabbe and Goyle on either side of him. Those two could beat Potter to a pulp.

Draco is talking to Blaize when Potter finally shows up. He sits opposite Draco as though nothing happened, and takes a huge chunk of apple pie. Blaize is saying something about classes and Potter remarks: "We have Defence first today. I don't expect much though, just look at Quirrell."

Blaize nods: "I hear he met some vampires and now he wears garlic under his robes".

Greengrass snorts and Draco frowns as his classmates talk to Potter as though he were the same as them. He joins in, pretending he forgot Potter's cutting words, but secretly planning to wipe that smile of his face.

...

During the lunch break Harry goes to the library in search of Hermione. He figures she'll be the easiest to talk to out of all his Griffindor friends, because she is still new to the wizarding world and not yet affected by its prejudices. He finds her at her usual table, surrounded by books and scrolls.

"How come you're studying already?" He asks, wondering if Hermione could ever change.

"Oh hi, Harry." She looks startled. "I'm studying because I want to get good grades and since there's 11 years of catching up to do I think every moment counts, don't you? Do you know how the tables work? I mean how come the food just sort of appears? Is it conjured? There must have been something in Hogwarts: A History, but I suppose I missed it."

Harry grins: "Hermione, I bet you are ages ahead of everyone else, nobody studies much before going to school". He ignores her affronted look and continues:" and as for the tables, my dad told me it was house elf magic. There's over a hundred house elves at Hogwarts, and most of them work in the kitchen. "

"House elves? What are those then?"

"They're servants. Old families often have them, they belong to the family and they do what their masters tell them.

"What like slaves? You have SLAVES?!"

"No, no, Hermione calm down! Merlin you're overreacting. They aren't slaves, usually they are very well treated and most of them love their work. They'd go mad without it. It makes them happy to serve their families." Harry does not need a repeat of SPEW. When Hermione looks unconvinced he offers:

"I could introduce you to one of our elves, if you like, so you can see for yourself that they're happy."

"You have one? How do I know you can't order it to lie to me?"

"Erm. Well maybe 'cause I wouldn't lie to you? We're friends, aren't we?"

She smiles, and Harry knows how much this must mean to her. He must be her first real friend.

"Yes. Show me that house elf. Does it have a name?"

Harry nods and calls: "Sally?"

"Yes master Harry, how can Sally be of assistance? Sally will not help master Harry with pranks, Mistress forbids it". Hermione stares, and Harry chuckles, because of course in this world, with the influence of three marauders, he is much more mischievous than he used to be.

"Hermione thinks you should be free."

"Free? No, no, young mistress, Sally must never be free, Sally wants to work for Master Potter and his family, like Sally's mother and Sally's grandmother." She looks at Harry, her large ears lifting a little. "The old master Jeremiah would be so proud that master Harry is in Slytherin house."

Harry is startled, and also very pleased. He remembers lessons in family history from his great aunt Melody. She died when he was eight, but not before he could recount the names of all his ancestors starting at the beginning of the eighteenth century. Jeremiah Potter was a broom maker who started the Nimbus model, and he had also been a Slytherin. As Hermione talks to Sally, Harry wonders, again, how much he had missed out on in his world, and how, in such a large family, the only people who could raise him were the Dursleys. After all, he doesn't think all of the Potters were killed in the first war.


	4. Chapter 4: Searching for answers

**Author's note: **Thank you so much for all the reviews, and suggestions, and for following me! Hope you like this chapter.

* * *

**4. Searching for answers**

During Herbology, Harry stands next to Ron. The redhead looks at him strangely and moves away and Harry tries to remember that Ron is only eleven, and that taking offense would be stupid.

"What's up with you?" Harry asks, although he knows very well already.

"You're in Slytherin." Ron says, like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"So?"

"Griffindors can't be friends with Slytherins."

"Why not? I told you my mom had a friend from Slytherin," Harry points out. "And anyways, I want to be friends with you, Malfoy's a jerk."

"Yeah he is. His father practically owns the ministry and he's a death eater."

"That's what my dad says too. I don't get why they can't just give him Veritaserum and be done with it."

Ron is confused. "What's Veritaserum?"

"It's a kind of potion. If you drink it you have to answer any questions posed to you and tell the truth. You can't lie." At Ron's incredulous look Harry adds quickly: "My dad told me about it."

"Oh. Well yeah I guess it'd be great if they could slip it to him somehow. I reckon if we make it and give it to Malfoy he'll tell us his father's a death eater, I mean he's got to know, right?"

"Yes. But its sixth year material and even then, suppose he tells us, what do we do? Tell the aurors we slipped him an illegal potion?"

"Well your Dad could make it look fine, couldn't he?"

"After he grounds me for a century, sure. And his job would be on the line. I think he'll probably find something on Lucius Malfoy soon, he's planning to trace his movements in Knockturn alley."

"He better, Lucius Malfoy always meddles with dad's investigations and you didn't hear what Draco Malfoy said about my mom."

"He called my mom a Mudblood."

Ron shushes him and looks around trying to see if someone heard.

"You can't say that word!"

"I didn't, Malfoy did!"

"Yeah but you repeated it! If you say it that means you're one of them. My dad says only people who follow You-Know-Who say it."

"Okay sorry I won't. What is it with people today? First Hermione thinks I mistreat house elves, now you think I'm the next Dark Lord."

"I didn't say that." Ron is horrified, both by the mention and by the fact that Harry seems completely comfortable talking about it. Harry takes pity on him and starts recounting his and Hermione's conversation. Ron laughs at her ignorance and Sprout and Hermione give them identical frowns.

...

Severus Snape was not surprised when he got a letter from Lily, but everything she asked of him he was already planning to do. He is not a moron and he knows the boy might end up in trouble, and although he cannot decide what to think about Harry, whether to hate him as Potter's spawn or to care for him for Lily's sake, the boy is a Slytherin and thus entitled to Severus's protection.

"And if I do not treat him fairly Lily will have my head." Severus thinks. That is why he is now sitting in his office waiting for Harry to arrive. He knows what he will tell him, but he is not looking forward to it. Severus does not enjoy the company of children under the best of circumstances but with Harry Potter something is bound to go wrong.

There is a knock on the door and a quiet "sir?" And Severus tells him to come in.

"Sit down Potter. I wish to talk to you." He waits for Harry to sit down and continues. "Your sorting was unexpected and you may find that Slytherin house is not the best place for a child of your parents."

"Sir, if you're implying",

"Do not interrupt me when I am talking, Potter. I was not talking about your mother's...origins. I happen to be an acquaintance of your mother's and I believe I mentioned that blood purity is not so important as many were taught to believe. What I was meaning to say was that your parents are aurors who played a key role in the Dark Lord's downfall and many will wish to take advantage of you or to use you to avenge their master."

The boy looks almost unperturbed and Severus has to resist the urge to use Legilimency on him. He would expect surprise, or perhaps incomprehension or even horror, not this instant acceptance of the fact.

"Do you understand what I am saying, Potter?"

"Yes sir. Thank you for warning me."

Still that cool, relaxed expression.

"Perhaps I did not make myself clear enough. You must be wary, Potter. You must be careful how you talk to your housemates and what impression they have of you."

"With respect, sir, I wasn't put in Slytherin by mistake. I'm not stupid."

"We shall see." Severus is not convinced. "Perhaps you can write me an essay, two scrolls, where you explain to me the correct behavior for a Slytherin, and for you specifically."

"When do I hand it in, sir?"

"Next lesson. And Potter, you did not pay close enough attention in my class today and came out with a decent potion. That shows that you have your mother's skills and i will not have them wasted out of laziness or lack of interest. If your attitude does not improve I will be forced to put you in detention, because I would hate to take points from members of my own house. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

"Go".

The boy leaves and Severus is left with a deep sense of unease. Not once in the course of the conversation did he have to remind Harry to say "sir", and not once did he have to tell him to stop fidgeting. It troubles Severus, like everything inexplicable, and he decides to make inquiries into the matter. With a sigh, he reaches for his quill and begins a letter to Lily.

...

The two scrolls Snape assigned him are a comforting reminder that the professor is not completely different from the man Harry grew to respect. Harry determines to ask around at dinner and find out what changed the Potion's master so much. He is near the great hall, in a deserted corridor, when two boys jump out from behind a statue.

"Hi Harry" says Fred, or maybe George.

"Nice to meet you Harry" says George, or maybe Fred.

"Ickle Ronnie has told us all about his Slytherin friend, hasn't he George?"

"That he has, Fred, that he has".

"But we can't let our brother be friends with just anyone-"

"-Can we?"

"We have to get to know you first,"

"Don't you agree?"

Harry will never understand how they do it, how they finisher each other's sentences without a moment's hesitation, but he is so happy to see them alive and whole that he doesn't care.

"Hello?"

"He talks!"

"He'll talk more after today!"

"You're Fred and George, right?"

"We never said Fred and George."

"Who told you such a thing?"

"I am Gred",

"And I'm Forge".

"You can't prank me". Harry is fairly certain that they can't. He's had years of practice avoiding pranks, whichever world you look at.

"We would never prank you!"

"No, no. We just want to get to know you."

"We can't make any promises on behalf of our friends though."

"The marauders:"

"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs."

"Funny how my dad never mentioned you." Harry puts in. "If you are such great friends of his."

"Is he saying?"

"He is."

"But that can't be"

"Are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Are you saying that your dad-"

"-is a marauder?"

"Sure he is. He's Prongs, my godfather's Padfoot, their friend is Moony, and another friend of theirs who died is Wormtail." He decides not to reveal the truth about Peter. He has no proof, and it would accomplish nothing but would bring friends to many people Harry loves.

Fred and George are standing quite still, mouths open and eyes wide in surprise. Harry delights in having, for once, the upper hand. When they speak, it is with reverent, lowered voices.

"Oh great and powerful Harry Potter," one begins.

"We would be forever in your debt and would be proud to include you in our endeavors,"

"If you would only help us meet with your mighty father,"

"And his equally mighty friends".

Harry can't keep a straight face then and he laughs, and laughs, and laughs some more, and he has trouble speaking but he manages to calm down enough to say "sure thing". They lift him up into the air and carry him into the great hall and the teachers are staring, some, like McGonnagal, with horror and a terrible suspicion that a pact between pranksters has just been made.

...

Neville watches as the Weasley twins carry Harry to the Griffindor table and force him to sit with them. He wonders if it is against the rules but since none of the teachers stand up he supposes it's alright.

"Hey Neville" Harry says.

"Hi. How's Slytherin?"

"It's great, almost everyone's nice and professor Snape is very thoughtful. He knows my mom, did you know?"

"No, but that's gotta be good for you." He supposes it makes sense, since Lily Potter defended Snape during his trial.

"I feel like he hates me already, he deducted tons of points. He never said anything nasty though, like he did to the others. Why d'you think that is?"

Neville is confused. Everyone knows Snape is a death eater, though the circumstances of his capture are unclear, but Dumbledore lets him teach at Hogwarts. He supposes Snape gave the headmaster something valuable, or perhaps made an unbreakable vow. Unbreakable vows were one of the things Neville's grandmother insisted on teaching him. He wonders why she thought he'd need to know. It's not like he'll ever amount to anything, he is below average in everything but Herbology.

"Maybe I could teach it after I graduate" he thinks. He doubts his grandmother would approve, but what does she know? Her greatest achievement isn't surviving to be eleven years old and getting her parents killed in the process. He wonders why he lived. Dumbledore said it was love that saved him, but love seems too vague a reason.

"Ouch" he yelps, pressing his hand to his scar.

"Neville?" Harry is worried, his eyes straying to the high table.

"I'm fine, it's nothing".

"If your scar's hurting you should go to Dumbledore and tell him, maybe something's wrong."

"Oh yeah? And make myself stick out even more? Ooooh, the boy who lived, ooooh look at his scar, oh does it hurt? Maybe you're getting an illness no one's had before 'cause you're unique." Neville snaps.

"I understand its hard Neville, I just wanna help" Harry is looking at him with sympathy, or perhaps pity, and something about his eyes and the way he is trying to keep this quiet makes Neville think that maybe, for some reason, Harry Potter does understand.

"If you don't want to see Dumbledore, it's fine. Maybe Madame Pomphrey will give you something for headaches that'll work." Harry sounds doubtful. "Has your scar hurt before?"

"Just once, during Defence, but not like this, not this much."

Neville notices Ron, who's been listening to the conversation. At his worried look the redhead says: "Don't worry mate, I won't tell anyone. But I think you should see Pomphrey. Charlie, my brother, says she regrew a part of his leg after a dragon he'd smuggled into the castle bit him. I bet she can help you with your scar."

"He brought a dragon into the castle?" Harry asks, at the same time as Neville asks:

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Yeah, he's crazy like that. And I have five, and a younger sister. She'll be going to Hogwarts next year."

The pudding appears and Harry says, offhandedly:

"I almost forgot, I was wondering, do you guys know why professor Snape is so, I dunno, odd?"

"Well everyone knows that", Neville says, "It's because he was in Azkaban."

Harry pales and Neville is puzzled. After all, Harry's own mother testified at the hearing. And if he hadn't found out then, Snape's release from Azkaban two and a half years ago was in all the newspapers and every child in wizarding Britain knows about the professor's past. Or so Neville thought.


	5. Chapter 5: Taking after others

**Author's note:** Thank you for following me and for your reviews. They are always welcome.

Hope you like the chapter!

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**5. Taking after others**

Harry's first ever Transfiguration class does not go according to plan. It begins just the way it should, with McGonnagal transfiguring the desk into a pig, but once the matches are handed out Harry starts having problems. Obviously, he can do the spell, and obviously, no one else is even close to succeeding. Harry remembers that Hermione achieved the desired effect just a few minutes before the bell, and he knows he cannot, or should not, surpass her. It would call too much attention to him and even if transfiguration skills could be explained by good genes, his father being a prodigy, he feels that a strategy is needed for other classes. The first year curriculum is pitifully easy and he feels like drifting asleep is his only option. He could, he supposes, devote most of his free time to pranks, but even that, he fears, would cause suspicion. Or maybe not.

He regards his classmates and Greengrass's clumsy wand waving reminds him of Neville. As far as Harry knows, this Neville Longbottom is doing no better than last time and it takes a lot of effort for Harry to stop thinking along the lines of: "Well if Neville can't kill Voldemort I'm sure I can help out". He feels mildly guilty about not interfering, but Dumbledore managed to get away with it for years, and Harry honestly believes that he deserves all the peace he gets.

The Horcruxes, however, are another matter. If he doesn't want to end up in the same lonely state he was in before his unscheduled journey, he supposes he should start destroying the ones he can get his hands on. He does not want to, of course, having done it all before. He knows if he hadn't come to this world this Harry would only get involved sometime around fifth year.

Harry is still in shock after the transition. Everything is slightly different and everyone is so young and innocent and so blissfully unaware of what lies ahead. He himself is changed, altered to fit the personality of a well-adjusted eleven-year-old. He finds himself listening eagerly to reviews for the latest children's novel "Frank and the Dragon's egg", or explaining himself to Filch before dumping a Dung Bomb at Mrs. Norris's feet. There are gaps in his memory that he is slowly trying to sort out and-

"Mr. Potter." McGonnagal's shrill voice startles him out of his reverie.

"Yes, professor McGonnagal?"

"May I inquire as to why you choose to ignore my class?"

Harry cringes. He does not want to be on bad terms with the Deputy Headmistress. He struggles for an acceptable answer.

"Oh but professor, it's just that, well, I can do the spell."

She lifts an eyebrow and he flicks his wand at the match. Only after it becomes a pin does he realize that he cast nonverbally and curses under his breath.

He looks up at McGonnagal and there is something suspiciously close to pride in her smile.

"Very well Mr. Potter. One point to Slytherin. If you have mastered the spell you should try to help your classmates. Mr. Goyle seems to be in need of assistance." Her voice is almost amused and when Harry glances at Goyle he sees that the boy's match has grown in size and is now the length of the desk. Shrugging, Harry moves up and goes to help.

...

Albus Dumbledore is in the habit of chatting to the Sorting Hat and to the portraits of previous headmasters. It is yet another one of his quirks, but curiosity can get the better of the best of people. He sits in his office, today wearing an orange robe emblazoned with Phoenixes, living and dying and rising again from the flames. It is one of his favorites as it makes him feel young and fashionable again.

He is talking amiably to Angelica Borrows, a twelfth century headmistress known for her habit of breaking the bones of the less hardworking students, when Minerva opens the door and comes in. Albums is prepared to deal with yet another of her endless quarrels with Severus (honestly, she should be too old for this childish rivalry, even if Severus is not) but instead he is greeted with a rare smile.

"Albus, young Harry may yet rival his father at transfiguration."

That is an interesting development and Albus is not sure what to make of it.

"Has he done something extraordinary?"

"He was not paying attention and I made him perform the spell, so he did it. Without saying a word. The boy can cast nonverbal spells Albus, it's astonishing. And I believe he inherited some of Lily's gifts as well because of all the students, Severus only forgot to grumble about Malfoy, whom he would love of course, and Harry."

Minerva is pleased, but when she sees the look in Albus's eyes her smile fades to surprise.

"Is something the matter Albus?"

"No, no Minerva, all is well. I am happy for Harry, truly. But what of Neville? How does he fare?"

Minerva hesitates. "He seems rather...shy" she says, but Albus understands what she must mean. He has talked to some of the other teachers and it appears that Neville's only talent is Herbology. Sprout was very happy about that.

Albus let's Minerva go, but he cannot go back to his peaceful afternoon. Something about the teacher's words troubles him more than Neville's meager abilities.

He thinks, thinks back to what she said about Harry, and he remembers, as though a distant dream, a different boy with the same raw talent. He can see two uncanny black eyes and a tall young man who excelled at everything but went to work in a small dark arts thrift shop. That boy, he knows, would one day become Voldemort.

Albus shudders. It is impossible, surely, and yet the memory stays with him and he knows that for the next seven years it will haunt him, force him to compare the son of his friends with the man who killed Neville's parents, and thousands of others.

...

It is on Tuesday that Godric swoops down and tosses Harry a reply from his parents. He is having breakfast and the owl perches on the edge of his cup and takes a bit of bacon.

"Oh Harry he's gorgeous! What's his name?" Pansy asks.

"Godric", he says, fully aware of the irony.

"You were pretty sure you'd be a Griffindor huh?" Blaize asks, and Harry can only nod. The Harry from this world would doubtlessly have been a Griffindor, and he would not have been able to consider any other options.

He opens the letter and starts to read, seeing first his mother's careful handwriting and then his dad's hasty scrawl.

_Dear Harry,_

_Of course we don't hate you, how can you even think that? We all love you very much, honey, and your great grandfather's portrait has been acting so smug we threatened to paint him over. Sirius was a little freaked out, but he's fine now. We only care that you are happy, and that you eat well and get good grades._

_I'm glad you seem to like Severus. We were friends at school and if you have any problems you should come to him._

_At home everything's great. We miss you terribly and the house seems quieter, though your father is making sure to make enough trouble for the both of you._

Here his mom stopped writing and his father took over.

_Forget about good marks and all that stuff, you'll have that anyway. Focus on pranks, annoying Minnie and Dumbles and Snivellus _(that last name is crossed out so it is almost illegible)_, breaking rules and getting onto your house team somehow. I don't see how you'll survive a year virtually without flying!_

_Moony and Padfoot say hi, and Padfoot threatens to visit you at school. So if you see a Grim, please don't panic and scream like a girl._

_Tell us about your friends. Tell us about what's changed since marauder days._

_Don't forget to feed Godric. (Or will you call him Salazar now?)_

_Love,_

_Your mom and dad_

Harry smiles. This is a real letter from his real living parents, full of words like "love" and "home" and he only wishes his five year old self, sitting in the cupboard under the stairs, could read this now.

"Good news?" Nott asks.

"Yeah, my godfather might visit."

"I thought family couldn't come to the school?"

"Yeah but he's an animagus so no one will know."

"Your godfather is an animagus?"

"Yep. So's my dad. They learned it when they were 15 but registered when they were 23. They figured they were finally mature."

"What, they were like the Weasley twins or something?" Greengrass demands.

"They were better".

The whole table looks horrified and Harry thinks that this house must be the least prank-friendly.

...

Days pass by in a blur for the students of Hogwarts, and before Draco knows it it is time for their first flying lesson. Obviously, for most people it is quite unnecessary and he feels it would be better to simply let them play Quiddich. Especially since Madam Hooch informs him that his grip on the broom is wrong, and praises Potter.

Draco grits his teeth. With every passing day he wishes more and more that his mother had let him go to Durmstrang. He is confident that there, in that majestic school, his abilities would have been recognized and he would have taken his rightful place as a future leader.

Longbottom goes up too early and Madam Hooch is shouting at him to land, but he doesn't seem to hear. He flies well and Draco thinks that the problem must be the broom. He's heard the most awful stories about the school brooms, and his father tells him they haven't changed since he had been a student.

Longbottom is flying straight at the castle, the broom shaking, and he tries to make it go down but it does not obey. He falls, and for a split second before he hits the ground Draco imagines newspaper articles about the dead Boy Who Lived. Then Hooch is running toward Longbottom's limp body, and everyone crowds in around them, and Draco sees a small glass ball. He picks it up, making sure the teacher can't see him, and when she leaves he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at it.

"Give it back Malfoy!" Weasley notices the rememberall and Draco grins.

"I don't think I will. I think I'll hide it before he can embarrass himself even more by carrying this thing around."

"Oh so now you're doing him a favor?" Draco scowls. Typical Potter, always sticking his nose where it does not belong.

"None of your business."

"I beg to differ. Neville happens to be a friend of mine and I won't let you steal his rememberall."

"I'd like to see you try and stop me, Potter."

Draco flies up, and thinks he is safe, that Potter would not dare break the rules in this way, until Potter follows, gaining speed, rushing straight at Draco. The Slytherin tosses the ball as far as he can and ducks out of the way and he knows that is what Potter had intended, and that the other boy would not really have smashed into him, but he cannot help himself.

...

The rememberall is falling, gleaming in the sun, and Harry knows he can catch it and his only fear is that McGonnagal's seeing him do it may not make Flint let him in on the team.

The ball is almost on the ground and Harry grasps it and straightens out the broom just in time. He flies to the bunch of students by the castle and they cheer and when he lands, seemingly calm and unruffled, but his face flushed with excitement, they all start talking and he can hear Hermione's: "That was so reckless Harry. You could have died. Or even have been expelled!" And Greengrass's: "Tell me again Potter, why were you put in Slytherin?" And then McGonnagal is hurrying towards them.

Harry hopes against all hope that she will take him to Snape. That she will say, in that proud voice: "Severus, I have found you a seeker", but she does not. She takes him inside and walks him to her office and offers him a cookie.

"Mr Potter, that was a very risky thing you did there, but as it was for a good cause I will not deduct points. I will, however, write to your parents about what you have done."

"Professor, I don't think my parents will mind-"

"If their son nearly dies? I dare say they will mind, Mr. Potter".

For the first time since he arrives in this world Harry is conscious of the fact that here, he might be punished for risking his neck. Mrs. Weasley would rant sometimes, but she was always too star struck to actually do anything. Harry grins, and McGonnagal is annoyed.

"This is not a laughing matter!"

"No I know, sorry, professor. It was just really good to fly after so long, 'cause at home I fly almost every day. And besides, I fly really well, I promise." Harry revels in saying "home", in remembering the long field and the way his mom yelled at him for flying into the window, and sitting in his dad's lap as a toddler, hearing stories about the pranks the marauders pulled, and drinking cocoa.

"Yes Mr. Potter, but at Hogwarts we have flying lessons once a week. That is, unless you are on the house team."

"How do I get to be on the team?"

"You try out, but first years are not allowed and I will not bend the rules for you. Now, if you understand, you may leave."

Harry goes, seething inside. "The hypocrite!" He thinks. He should not have been surprised. He has had it shown to him on multiple occasions that McGonnagal is incredibly competitive when it comes to Quidddich, and it is no wonder she does not want him playing for the opposite team. Still, he has always thought her fair, and finding out the hard way that she is not precisely so is disappointing.


	6. Chapter 6: Friends, old and new

**Author's note:** thank you all for following me, and for reviewing. Reviews help me write)

Hope you enjoy this chapter**.**

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**6. Friends, old and new**

That evening Harry goes to see Hagrid. To his surprise, Blaize decides to tag along and when Hermione sees them in the great hall Harry invites her too. It's strange, going to Hagrid as a trio, but not as the same trio. They talk about lessons and Blaize mentions that his grandmother is a muggle. Harry snorts:

"How come Malfoy doesn't mind you being in Slytherin?"

"My grandfather is a Black, like Draco's mom. We basically grew up together. They choose to ignore grandma Suzanne as much as possible."

"What I don't understand is why Malfoy is the only one in Slytherin who still hates Harry." Hermione says speculatively.

"Well..." Harry is sheepish. His enmity with Malfoy is one of the few things that remained the same and it does not bother him much. "I might have said something to him."

"Well then good luck to you, Malfoys never forgive people who've offended them. What did you say?" Blaize sounds only mildly interested, but Harry doesn't know how much of it is the Slytherin habit to hide behind a cool façade.

"He was being a jerk and I just kind of replied the same way."

"Harry, what did you say?"

"He said I was gonna disappoint Snape 'cause of my mom, so I said he was stupid 'cause of the incest."

"You WHAT?" Both Blaize and Hermione are aghast, and the Slytherin is quick to follow up with:

"Harry, you idiot, that's taboo! Your Dad's a pureblood, how come you don't know? I mean no one talks about that."

"Yeah 'cause it's a bit too close to home. But I know I shouldn't have said that."

They reach the cabin and knock on the door and when Fang barks Hermione looks wary. The door creaks open and Hagrid looms in the doorway.

"'Ello kids. What're yeh up to?"

Harry is confused, but then it dawns on him that this Hagrid does not know him at all.

"Hi Hagrid. I'm Harry, this is Hermione and Blaize. My parents told me about you, so I figured I'd come visit you."

Hagrid smiles through his beard. "You'll be James and Lily's boy then? Look just like yeh dad, you do. Only you got yeh mom's eyes. Oh come in, come in, I was just about to make me some tea. Yeh want a cup?"

The kids sit down at the table and Hagrid pours tea and hands out cookies. Harry doesn't take any, being all too familiar with Hagrid's style of cooking, but Hermione tries one, and nearly breaks her teeth, and Hagrid looks at her in concern.

"So 'Arry, how're your folks doin'?"

"They're doing great, they're aurors."

"Yeah I heard 'bout that. And your parents Hermione, they're muggles right?"

"Yes, they are dentists."

"Huh?"

"Oh, you know, they are doctors who treat teeth problems." Hermione is uncomfortable. Harry knows she's never met anyone like Hagrid and he supposes she is figuring him out as they speak, imagining Hagrid's parents, guessing that one of them must have been a giant. "Truly, she is the smartest witch of the generation", Harry thinks.

"My dad is an apothecary", Blaize puts in. "He helped invent the Wolfsbane potion."

This statement is greeted with two uncomprehending stares and Harry's surprised one. Somehow, he never found out how and when the potion was invented. He wonders if Remus uses it or if he prefers the company of the marauders.

"I think I've read about it, but I don't remember. What does it do?" Hermione asks.

"It's really hard to make, but if brewed properly it can make a werewolf keep his mind during a transformation."

"That's amazing. And no wonder you're good at Potions, if your dad can teach you."

Blaize blushes at the praise, and coming from Hermione it is all the more flattering.

"Harry's real good to", he says, and it is Harry's turn to feel embarrassed, because, of course, he is actually nothing of the sort.

...

"Harry beat her to it."

James and Lily are sitting at the kitchen table, looking at two letters. One, official and written in the green ink of Hogwarts, is from McGonnagal, and the other is from their son.

"I think it's great that he saved Neville's rememberall. Although, mind you, those things are pretty useless." Lily frowns and James falls quiet, eyebrows raised in question.

"He has to be punished for breaking the rules."

"No he hasn't, darling, don't you see he did it to help out a friend? Besides, anything that's bad for Malfoy is a good thing."

"He still needs to learn that rules are there for a reason. Maybe on a broom he couldn't have died, but what if something like this happens again and he's less prepared? He can't go round Hogwarts breaking every rule in the books!"

"Can't he?"

James's voice is pleading and he looks her in the eye with that imploring expression that he had had whenever he was going to ask her out at school. It might work on everyone else, but Lily Evans spent years resisting just that particular look and she is not moved.

"You know I never approved of half the pranks you pulled, and this is his life on the line."

"Oh but it's just such a small thing love, not a prank even-"

"Exactly! It was not planned and he got himself in a lot of trouble and from what I hear he could have killed Malfoy!"

"Oh come on Lils, he would never have actually hurt him. He would have turned away at the last second, you know he would have."

"Yes but it was still dangerous. I don't care if you think it's alright but I will certainly do something about it."

"You won't send a howler, will you?" James is worried and doesn't try to hide it. He had gotten his share of howlers during his seven years at Hogwarts, but all they did was make him want to prank the students who were laughing at his expense.

"Of course not, I think they're distasteful things, I'm just going to tell him to send home the Cloak. I'll give it back to him during the holidays, if he behaves himself."

"You can't do that!" James is shocked, both by idea and by the duration of the punishment.

"Oh yes I can, and unless you want to eat your dinner at McDonalds I suggest that you let me go ahead.

He is about to protest when there is a burst of green flames and Remus stumbles into the room.

"Prongs, you have got to make him see sense, he's started dating Athena's mother again."

...

Athena Black was born on March 16th, 1983. Her mother was a muggle, and her father a pureblood. Her mother, Hannah Grey, had found out that her fiancé had magic on the day before the wedding, and she had taken it very well. "So that's why you haven't got a television." She had said, and that was that.

Hannah worked, and works, as a painter, and her art cluttered up their attic and hung on all the walls. The couple had lived, happily, for four years, until she fell in love with an engineer and left her husband for good. She left Athena, also, because by then it was obvious that the child had magic. Athena had been devastated, and Sirius became responsible, leaving his job as a beater for a position with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

After that, Athena spent her life alternately moving from one Black manor to another with her dad, visiting friends and spending rare weekends with her mother. She was taught to read by Remus and to fly by Harry, and her mother was the one who found her a decent school. There Athena excelled, pranking everyone and trying in vain to make her classmates believe in magic.

When Athena was almost seven, her parents got back together. She had been overjoyed, writing a letter to Harry the moment she saw her mother leave her dad's room in the morning and start to make breakfast. She told her mother to never leave again, and Hannah had laughed and said that she would not. Three months after that, she was gone to live with a banker, and Athena decided, then, that she didn't really need a mom at all. She had Lily, and her father's cousins Andromeda and Nymphadora.

Nymphadora was the best. Athena thought of her, at the time, as a best friend, because she never minded spending time with the little girl and would always amuse her by changing her hair and eyes and nose.

When her mom came to live with them again, Athena didn't know what to do. She nicked some floo powder in the morning, while her parents were still in bed, and called out "Moony Cottage", and tumbled out into Remus's tidy living room. She walked into his room, tiptoeing to see if she could surprise him, but he was awake and busy writing something, and noticed her at once.

"Moony?"

"Athena, what are you doing here? Did you come by yourself?"

"Yes Moony, mommy came back. It's so good if course, but what if she leaves again? I wanted to tell you 'cause you can tell me if you think she'll leave."

Remus paled: "What do you mean she came back?"

"Oh, you know, she started living with us again."

He stood up and took her hand and ran for the fireplace. She was nervous, because he didn't seem happy at all.

"Potter manor", he said and went into the flames. She stood there for a moment, wondering if she should follow him, or if she should go home. Curiosity took the best of her, and she also went into the fire.

...

When they leave Hagrid, it is with the tacit understanding that they will return next week. It's growing dark, and the moon, just a a thin line today, begins to rise over the horizon. Hermione is walking between the two boys, and she is happy, and content, and she does not want this day to end. In Griffindor, she has few people she can really talk to, but Harry Potter is very quickly turning into her best friend.

"Blaize, I've been wondering, why do wizarding children know so little about muggles when they have to have gone to school with them? Or are there special, wizarding primary schools?"

"No actually. The thing is, most magical children don't go to any school before coming here. The purebloods have tutors for English and Mathematics, the half-bloods either study with their parents, hire tutors, or go to normal schools. But most don't, because it is feared that they will tell everyone about magic."

"Did you go to school?"

"No, I had tutors for ordinary classes, and house elves to teach me manners and Latin and Greek."

"Wow, no wonder everyone's so ignorant, what a stupid way to go about things. But why Latin and Greek?"

"For the spells I guess. I mean they are never in English. My dad taught me some Latin, mostly by reading me Latin books." Harry says.

"You mean you never went to school either?" Hermione is amazed, and somewhat disappointed in him. It is odd that wizards could kill with two words, but knew so little about muggles.

"Oh no, course I went to school. Accidental magic was a problem, but I guess I did alright. I was always football captain. And I didn't know it was so rare for wizards to go to school, I mean I have a, well, cousin of sorts and she goes to school."

"Oh but that's you Harry, you don't count as a normal wizard. The Potters have been in love with muggles for years. And you're not a pureblood."

"Have not, and anyway you aren't either."

"Yeah you said your grandma's a muggle."

"That doesn't count! My dad is a Black and my mother is Jane Abbot, also a pureblood, which means I'm one too." He is almost angry, because they do not seem to understand that blood purity counts, that whatever Snape might have said, it is still an important factor.

When they reach the castle they decide to escort Hermione to her common room, but accidentally fall through a false tile and end up inside a dark corridor, and Harry gasps." Oh no." He says, and Blaize inquires as to what's wrong.

"I think, no, scratch that, I know this is the third floor corridor."

"Oh Harry, we've got to go now!"

"Granger, I thought Griffindors were supposed to be brave and reckless." Blaize says sarcastically. "Don't you want to know what Dumbledore is keeping here?"

"No, I do not. He said it would kill us and we would certainly get expelled."

"Oh come on, we're here already - we might as well take peek. Don't you think so Harry?"

The other boy is strangely quiet, but at that he seems to hesitate before replying: "Yeah, I guess it won't hurt to find out what's in here. Maybe it's over there?" And he points to a door at the end of the hallway. Hermione huffs but goes with them, unwilling to stay behind. The door is locked and Hermione says: "We'll I guess that's it, isn't it?" When Harry whispers "Alohomora" and the door opens. The children shriek.

There, right in the center of the room, is a huge three headed dog. Blaize thinks, dazedly, that it should be there for a reason and a split second before they push the door closed he notices a trapdoor under the dog's massive paw.

Then they run, run until their ribs hurt and they are panting for breath, run until they reach the seventh floor and the Griffindor common room. It's nearly curfew and the hallway is deserted, the candles casting an eerie light on the walls.

"I knew we shouldn't have gone in there. Hippogriff." Hermione rasps, and storms into her common room. The boys look at each other and Blaize is interested to note that Harry doesn't look scared or even very rattled. He is breathing heavily from running, but his voice is calm when he says: "Maybe we should head down."


	7. Chapter 7: Influence

**Author's note: **thank you for following me and for the reviews. The reviews help me write!

Hope you enjoy this chapter.

btw, hope it's obvious that the world and characters belong to jkr, and the plot to me.

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**7. Influence**

Harry is walking towards the Quiddich pitch with his housemates and he has an overwhelming sense of loss. He should be out there, on the pitch, listening to Oliver's, or Flint's, he supposes, instructions, preparing for the game, instead of heading for the stands. For the first time since he arrived into this world he fully understands the magnitude of what he has done.

Harry thinks it is ironic that Quiddich is what makes him conscious of all the things he should have realized and accepted weeks ago: that he cannot return, that his friends will never be the same, that he is slowly changing into someone quite different. Hermione would scoff and say Quiddich should not provoke such strong emotions, and Ron would say that hey, he's still in a much better place than where he was. Harry knows this, and he does not really regret coming here, but he still cannot help feeling deflated.

He is in the stands, and everyone is cheering. Slytherin is playing Griffindor, and Harry has trouble rooting for the right team. Seven years he spent in the red and gold of Griffindor, catching the snitch for the house of the lions. Now, he finds himself groaning with the others when Angelina scores, but a voice in the back of his head keeps insisting that something is very wrong. When he spots the snitch, it is with great effort that he stops himself from pointing it out to the oblivious seekers.

Half an hour later, the Griffindor seeker captures the snitch, and Griffindor wins the game. Half an hour after that, Harry approaches Flint in the locker rooms.

"What do you want Potter?"

"Our seeker's no good."

"Yeah, I haven't noticed that in the two years I've known him. If you don't have a better option I suggest you sod off."

"I can play."

"You're a firstie, you're not allowed. And I don't know you can play."

"You could test me, and if I'm any good we could ask professor Snape to ask professor Dumbledore to make an exception for me."

Flint looks unconvinced and it is a show of how desperate he is that he nods.

"Tomorrow, before dinner. Come to the pitch, and don't be late."

...

Lucius Malfoy is eating breakfast with his wife, reading a copy of the Prophet and thinking that one of these days he would have to get around to hiring Skeeter, when Narcissa says:

"Darling, I think you should tell Draco to stop this nonsense"

"Hm? What was that?"

She takes the paper out of his hand and folds it at the edge of the table. A house elf (Holly, he thinks, but he cannot be certain) appears and takes it, and disappears again after refilling their cups with fresh coffee and cream.

"I said I think Draco should stop acting like a child."

"He is a child".

"He is a Malfoy, and a Black, and I will not have him embarrassing himself and destroying any chance of an alliance with Potter."

"From what I hear Draco is not the only one to blame."

"But he is the one we can control. Make him see sense, darling, I am getting fed up with his whining. "Potter is so horrible, Potter is insufferable, why does everyone love Potter?" It's driving me mad."

Lucius sighs. If he is honest with himself he has to admit that Draco's letters are getting annoyingly repetitive.

He looks at Narcissa, as she sits, back straight, robe folded in just the right places, her very posture screaming "pure blood" and thinks that he must make time to take her out dinner one of these days. It's been a while, several weeks, since they went out together last. He has been busy with work, persuading that idiot of a minister that passing laws that allow werewolves to be educated is not a wise move. It isn't, really. The dangers are countless and Lucius doubts the creatures can ever learn anything. He thinks of Fenrir, and the way the huge werewolf ate the body of a muggle child, and the way the Dark Lord smiled and patted his arm as though saying "good dog". Lucius would never admit it, but Fenrir Grayback is one of the very few people, or creatures, that frighten him. The thought of Draco in the same room as that monster haunts his dreams. He prays that if, or when, he supposes, the Dark Lord regains power, Grayback is no longer alive, but something tells him that is too much to hope for.

"All right, Narcissa, I will write to him, but I am not sure it will do any good. I think he knows everything I have to say."

"Perhaps. But if he does not listen to you, I am sure there are other ways to influence him."

They would never hurt Draco, but a small reminder that Lucius has the power to induce great pain and has done so many a time is enough to put Draco in his place. Lucius is sure that Draco does not believe they would harm him, but that the boy will never know for certain.

"Do you ever think we spoil him?"

"I know we spoil him, but what is influence and money for, if not to spoil ourselves?"

"Yes. You are right of course".

"Aren't I always?"

"Oh yes, darling, you are."

He smiles, and says:

"Why don't you meet me at the "Billion Herbs" tonight? I can reserve a table."

"That would be marvelous. I love that restaurant."

He knows she does, and indeed it is a very nice place. The cuisine is delicious, the waiters polite and efficient, and the cooks know that for Malfoys, they should use their best recipes.

Lucius finishes breakfast and stands up. Dobby appears and hands him his formal robe. He kisses Narcissa and goes over to the fireplace. He takes a handful of floo powder and throws it into the flames, and states, very clearly:

"Ministry of Magic, minister's office", and steps forward.

...

Harry's Quiddich tryouts are scheduled to take place this evening so he is excited when he enters the Defence classroom. Quirrel is his usual stuttering self so Harry is playing tic tac toe with Blaize and considering whether to start the DA a couple years early. He would call it something else, of course, perhaps Neville's Army, but if Lockhart is still hired next year it might be prudent to begin teaching everyone proper Defence. Ironically, the most competent teacher besides Remus was Crouch, and Harry sincerely hopes to avoid his coming to Hogwarts.

He is also unsure who to approach about Flamel. Maybe it would be safer to leave the stone in the mirror of Erised, but he fears Neville might need the practice and the encounter with Voldemort. Harry determines to talk to the boy, but there will be some complications. For one, his mother confiscated his cloak.

Harry still can't believe she did that. The Dursleys used to punish him, of course, but it had always been for things he didn't do and he always managed to trick them. Besides, it feels odd to be punished at 19.

"M-m-mist-t-ter P-potter, t-t-tell me, w-what-t is the d-d-dd-issssarm-Ming sp-pell?"

"Expeliarmus, sir."

Harry fights the sarge to grin. Here is Voldemort, teaching Harry the spell that will ultimately bring about his death. Harry wonders if Neville gets it, if Neville here has the aptitude for Defence that he found during Harry's fifth year.

The bell rings, and they file out of the classroom and go to dinner. Harry sits a few seats away from Malfoy, and is surprised when he hears:

"So Potter, I hear you might get on the Quiddich team."

The voice is not friendly, but it is a far cry from the usual disgust.

"If I'm lucky. What's it to you?"

Malfoy looks embarrassed and somehow very unhappy, but relies politely enough:

"I'm concerned about our house's reputation, naturally. Our seeker is inadequate so I hope you will have more skill."

"You know I can fly."

Something close to fear flitters across Malfoy's face and he nods assent.

"So Draco, you've come out of your sulk?" Blaize butts in, his mouth full of raspberry tart.

"I was not sulking!"

"'Course you were." Daphne quips. "You were always glaring and complaining about everything."

"Shut up."

Draco's ears are red and Harry takes pity on him. The boy is only 11 and Harry is supposed to be a responsible adult.

"So maybe next year you could try out as well? Maybe for chaser?"

They keep talking about Quiddich, discussing tactics and remembering important games they've seen. Harry drops a hint about Crum, but when everyone looks blank he backtracks and goes back to explaining why the Cannons are the best. It is not hard, after listening to Ron for years.

After dinner he appears at the pitch. Flint looks sour and mutters about "wasting his time". Harry mounts the broom and flies a couple circles, and then, out of nowhere, Flint yells : "catch, and troughs a little stone into the air." Harry leans close to the handle, with mounting excitement, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as he speeds closer and closer to the ground. He is meters away when the pebble is in his hand and then he turns slightly and flies towards Flint, his arm extended and the stone resting on his palm.

The Captain looks impressed but tries not to show it.

"Not bad, Potter, now why don't we try again."

It is only after two hours of throwing and catching, when Harry is sweaty and tired and his breathing is labored, that Flint lets him go.

"You're on the team. I'll talk to Snape in the morning."

Harry mumbles a thank you and staggers to the showers and then to the common room. For once he is glad that it is not on the top floor. He falls into bed and goes to sleep at once, and he does not dream at all.

...

Dragging a troll into Hogwarts is not simple, and Voldemort wishes he had chosen a stronger wizard. Quirrell's utter inability to cast an efficient Imperius is driving him crazy and he has to resort to threats to make the weakling try harder.

"I will ssssskin you alive, Quirrell, and take a ssssssstronger body, and you will ssssssssuffer more than Bellatrix's toysssss."

After hours of hard work and nagging, the troll is in his power. It takes two more hours to cast enough Confundus charms on the student body to make them leave the secret passage and the dungeons to allow him to bring the troll inside. He had chosen Halloween because it is the night he died. He thinks it is only fitting for this to be the night of his return, but it is a pity that the troll will not kill any students. They will be in the great hall, enjoying the feast.

"Their last feast."

As he runs to the doors prepared to shout: "troll" he thinks, gleefully, that Dumbledore will not have time to know what hit him.

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**Another author's note:** I will be away from home for the next 2 weeks, and I do not know if there will be wifi. I will try to update as much as I can.


	8. Chapter 8: Halloween

**Author's note: **Hi! I'm back, and here's the next chapter. Hope you like it. Please comment either way!

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**8. Halloween**

When Quirrell runs in Harry glances over at the Griffindor table. Hermione isn't there and he curses Ron's lack of self-control. Or brains.

Just like before, he sees Dumbledore stand up and quell the yells and terrified shrieks of the students. He listens to the headmaster's calm instructions and it occurs to him that they are very strange. How can the Slytherins go to their common room, when it is in the dungeons? Clearly, someone hasn't thought this through.

Even Harry begins to panic slightly at that, but as it turns out his fears were unfounded. The Slyherins are taken up stairs and when he asks one of the prefects she says they are going to the Ravenclaw common room. He wonders why the other house lets them in.

Remembering Hermione he sneaks away and uses one of the secret passages (a door hidden behind a painting of Merlin) and gets to the girls' bathroom. He is fairly sure Snape will still stop Quirrell, if not because of the life debt then because he is a more decent man than he lets on.

The door is open and Harry hears the troll's heavy footsteps and Hermione's scream. He also, to his astonishment, hears Ron say:

"Look out!"

And Neville reply:

"Hermione, get behind us. Do you know any useful spells?"

Harry enters, amazed and a little worried that his place in the golden trio will be occupied. It is not the glory that he envies, of course, but the friendship, and the sight of Hermione crouching behind the two Griffindors fills him with a now familiar sense of displacement, and he cuts in:

"Sectumsempra!"

He shouts, and the troll crumbles to the floor, blood dripping from his stomach. It is not enough to kill, but it gives the kids time to run away. As they reach the end of the corridor and stumble into an empty classroom they hear the teachers coming into the bathroom and gasping, and Quirrell's stuttering: "M-m-Merlin-n."

The Griffindors stare at Harry and he looks away.

"What was that spell?"

"Yeah that was awesome mate!"

"Harry, how did you know where we were?"

Harry hesitates, searching for the right answer.

"I heard some girls talking before dinner."

He expects them to question him further, but as they are only 11 they accept the answer at face value.

"That was close, huh?"

They are all shaky and Hermione is still sobbing, but she gets a grip and repeats: "What spell did you use? I don't think I've ever r-read about it."

Now he's in trouble. Hermione is smart enough to remember the spell and determined enough to look it up. When she won't find it she will have questions. Harry thinks quickly:

"Oh, well, it's nothing, it's just a spell a friend of my mom's invented, I wasn't sure what it did but I didn't know what else to do and it sounded pretty badass."

"Harry, it looks like a dark spell." Her tone is almost apologetic and he thinks, grimly, that it should be. He saved her life and she was picking on him.

"Well, it's not. The person who invented him is one of the best people I know."

Hermione looks unconvinced but drops the subject, probably sensing in him the same obstinacy she herself possesses.

They hear the teachers walk by, talking among themselves, hear McGonnagal's skeptical: "I don't suppose it was Albus?" and Flitwick's: "I swear it must have been one of my seventh years", and Quirrell's: "It w-was v-v-very f-fortun-nate."

When the teachers' footsteps recede, the children all sigh with relief and cautiously open the door. The hallway is empty and deceptively peaceful and they run to their respective common rooms. The Slytherin common room is empty and Harry remembers that everyone is with the Ravenclaws. He grins and goes for his secret stash of floo powder and dips his head into the flames. To his astonishment when he sees the Potter's sitting room he sees his dad talking to Hannah,a woman part of Harry remembers as Sirius's ex-wife.

"If you leave again-"

"I won't! I love him, James, don't you get it?"

"Not when you've left twice."

"Only because the magic was too much for me, but I'm used to it now."

"In all the years I've known you I've never seen anything be too much for you. If you leave now it may be alright, if you leave later you will hurt Sirius, and, if that is not enough, you will hurt Athena."

Harry frowns, his nineteen-year-old self sympathizing entirely with James's point of view while the 11-year-old inside him hopes that Hannah will stay forever and believes her fierce expression and her smooth, calming voice.

"I'm not going to leave because you tell me too."

"If you leave later I will curse you into next century where Lily will be waiting to kill you."

He looks so serious that for a second her eyes seem almost afraid, but the moment is past and there is only irony in her voice as she says:

"Why would I lie to you?"

"Because you don't know your own mind? Because you are crazy? Because your last boyfriend broke up with you and you can't stand being single?"

"I am neither of those things and I'm going now. If you have something to say to me say it in front of Sirius, hm?"

She storms out of the room and as James curses he looks into the fireplace and freezes.

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything?"

James swears again, more quietly, conscious of the young boy standing just a few feet away.

"Did you want to talk about something?"

Harry is sheepish.

"Well, it's actually professor Quirrell's fault..."

.…

Hermione is in the common room standing by herself with her back to the window, when Ron and Neville approach her from the right. She looks at them and thanks them again for coming to her rescue, but they wave it away.

"I'm sorry I said that about you." Ron says. "I shouldn't have, I was just jealous that you're always so good at everything."

She smiles.

"That's alright."

They look at each other and in the split second after she accepts the apology they know, know they will be friends all their lives.

It is very strange for Hermione to be friends with so many people, and on good terms with most of others. Just today, Ron was one of her enemies, and now he, too, changed his attitude. After all, everybody would call her a know-it-all at least once during her time at Hogwarts, she is sure, and getting mad about it would accomplish nothing.

In the morning she is surprised to find Ron and Neville waiting for her in the common room. They grin and she smiles back.

"Morning, Hermione."

"Hello. Are you waiting for me?"

"No we just like staying hungry for hours." A glare in Neville's direction.

"But apparently it's the nice thing to do."

She nods and they go through the portrait hole together, Neville taking her bag but handing it back almost instantly after realizing just how heavy it is.

"Blimey Hermione, what do you carry around in there?"

"Textbooks. And the book I borrowed from the library. And an extra potions manual. And parchment, ink, quills and a sugar quill."

She says the last one with a touch of defiance, expecting the usual reprimand about sugar being bad for one's teeth. It doesn't come, and once again she revels in the freedom of living without her parents watching her every move.

They reach the table and she takes a few spoonfuls of porridge and some strawberry. She notes, cheerfully, that Ron piles his plate high with every sort of food to be found this morning. She glances across the hall at Harry and finds him deep in talk with Blaize and Malfoy, both gesticulating wildly. "They're probably talking about Quiddich." She thinks with resentment. She honestly does not see the attraction of a game that centers around people trying to knock each other of brooms situated a hundred feet in the air.

"So Neville, what's your favorite team?"

She hears, and groans.

"Can't we talk about something else?"

"Does someone hear know anything about football?" Dean asks. Hermione doesn't know much, but she prefers it to Quiddich and her father is an avid fan. She turns to him and asks about the games he's been to, and when it turns out that he saw the only game her father managed to drag her to, there is no stopping Dean's excited recollections and probing questions about her favorite player and style of playing. Hermione wonders, for a moment, why she bothers talking to boys, but then she hears Parvati describing a new brand of makeup, and remembers.

...

Severus is sitting in Poppy's office behind the main room of the hospital wing. The woman is fussing and huffing and berating him for not being careful enough, and Severus almost regrets ever coming to her, but the pain was such that he could not brew a potion to help himself.

"No I won't disturb it. I won't over work. I'm not going to run around, with or without a hole in my leg. I will take my medicine. I will see you tomorrow. Can I leave now, please?"

Poppy is obviously annoyed, and shoves the vials of potion at him with unnecessary viciousness, but he ignores her and stands up to go. He winces, takes a step, and as the painless draft takes it's hold he starts walking faster, thinking about all the papers he has to grade and of the way Lily's last letter is still unanswered. They are corresponding regularly now, but his Slytherin suspiciousness nags at him, whispering in his ear about ulterior motives and having to help her son.

His mood is not improved when Weasley bumps into him in the corridor.

"Twenty points from Griffindor."

"Sorry professor, I didn't see you."

"Another ten for forgetting to watch where you are going."

Weasley leaves but Severus sees the other twin join him from out of nowhere, and subconsciously checks his cloak for signs of pranking. It seems fine, but as each person he passes turns to stare at his retreating back the sense of doom grows until he reaches his quarters and looks in a mirror.

His hair is pink and maid into dozens of tiny little braids, and his whole face is covered with pink butterflies.

"Fifty points from Griffindor." He grits, and starts trying to find an antidote.

...

Albus Dumbledore finds himself thinking about the troll. Or rather, about the wound Minerva described. She said that to inflict such a deep wound on a troll would require great skill, or a spell she knew nothing of. Severus tensed, and when the other teachers left Albus asked him to stay. Only to hear, to his astonishment, and and Albus prides himself on being rarely caught of guard, that to Severus the spell sounded like one of his own.

Dumbledore sighs and several portraits look at him with hopeful glances.

"Are you quite alright?" Dippet asks.

Dumbledore twinkles at him, in the way that annoys his enemies and enchants his friends. He has mastered the art by now and it gives him great pleasure to use it to his advantage.

"I'm not dying just yet."

Dippet frowns and moves to share a portrait with a fourteenth century Slytherin headmaster famous for dying a week after accepting the post. Dipper never liked Albus, because of his intelligence and his righteousness, and his constant urge to meddle in things that do not concern him. Albus knows he hasn't changed.

He thinks that Severus must be wrong, or that it is Quirrell, but his thoughts are drawn, almost of their own accord, to Harry Potter. Albus wonders why the boy has friends outside his house, why he does so well at school without paying much attention and why, out of all his students, Harry is the only one who shields his mind. The last thought makes Albus feel guilty, guilty for spying on his students and for forbidding Severus to do the same. He knows Legilimency is addictive and wrong and yet without it, he would not be as respected, or as feared.

And he would not know that Harry Potter has rudimentary skills in Occlumency. The boy stopped resisting almost at once, but not before Albus felt the frail barriers slide into place. It disturbs him, and he fears its implications. He tries to think reasonably, to make conclusions based on fact, but Harry Potter is an enigma, and Albus cannot let it pass.


	9. Chapter 9: Waiting for Christmas

**Author's note: **Hope you enjoy this chapter! please comment, it's what keeps me writing.

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**9. Waiting for Christmas**

Harry does not sleep, but goes to inspect the Room of Requirement. He has been meaning to do this for some time and now, creeping up to the seventh floor with a hasty disillusionment charm cast almost as an afterthought, he wonders why the marauders never found it. True, it took Dobby's pointing it out for Harry to realize the room exists, but Harry was never one for pranks in that other world, and the secrets of the castle he did unravel were mostly dangerous and connected to Voldemort. His father, however...

Harry determines to ask him about it when next they talk, and stops in front of the wall, trying to decide what he wants from the room. Briefly, he considers asking the room to take him back, but he feels that it will not work. He does not really want to be nineteen again, to live in a world where nearly everyone he loves is dead, and where he cannot make a difference or enjoy what is left of his life. Before he left he had been forced to become an auror, even though he was sick of fighting and wished to play professional Quiddich.

Harry nods decisively and starts walking up and down the corridor, and when he opens the door he is met with the Blacks' private library. Harry chose it because he thinks that, if he is looking for a rare and potentially dangerous book, it will be there.

He walks among the shelves and pulls out a copy of "Horcruxes: history of immortality". He thinks, grimly, that his quest to destroy the Horcruxes would have been much simpler if he'd thought of checking at Grimmould Place. Taking the book into his hand, he leaves, and after the door disappears summons a different room.

He comes in to the crackling of the fire in the tiny room with a huge sofa and a table in the corner, and a dark window on the opposite wall. Harry puts the book on the table and, standing with his back to it, calls out:

"Sally?"

"Yes master Harry? Why is master Harry not in bed, sir?" She sounds reproving and frowns, her round eyes narrowing to slits.

"I couldn't sleep. Could you bring me a brownie and some hot chocolate?"

She looks suspicious. "Yes, master Harry. But what is this room? This is not the Slytherin common room, master Harry, sir."

"No, Sally, it's a special room, it's in Hogwarts and it becomes whatever I want it to be. If you tell dad, make sure to mention that he didn't find it, but I did."

She still is not pleased, but as there doesn't seem to be anything fishy happening, she disappears, only to reappear in ten minutes with a steaming mug of hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows, and a huge plate of crunchy brownies.

"Thanks Sally", Harry says, and she smiles and leaves, with a last minute: "Try to go to bed soon, master Harry, mistress would be worried if she knew you weren't sleeping enough."

...

Lily is doing her Christmas shopping, Hannah in tow. She is still suspicious of her, but faced with the identical grins of Athena and Sirius and the evidence of several months Hannah spent with them Lily is forced to allay her suspicions and include her in the annual tradition.

They started out in muggle London, with Lily enjoying the rare opportunity to spend time with non-magic folk. Even after years of living in the wizarding world Lily still cannot think of them as muggles, because that word has always sounded inferior to her, made her feel as though she we were looking down on the people she grew up with, on her family, her teacher and her neighbors. As the two women walk down the street leading to the Leaky Cauldron she revels in seeing a television working in a cafe and in seeing a little boy play with a remote control plane. Harry used to have a plane like that, but it worked on magic and there was no purr of the tiny motor and no crashing as the plane fell, inevitably, onto a passerby's head.

Hannah bought many presents in London, but Lily has few old acquaintances left and her parents, who died in a car crash twelve years ago, enjoyed the strangeness of magical objects. All she bought was a simple silver bracelet for Petunia and a big box of chocolates for Dudley. She knows, of course, that when she gives her sister the two presents Petunia will hide the chocolates among Dudley's other Christmas gifts, so as not to let Vernon know that she is still in touch with Lily, however rarely. The sisters meet once a month and chat, and exchange small gifts. In the aftermath of the war, when so much had been lost, Lily could not help but reach out to Petunia, try to mend the friendship that had once, long ago, existed between them. And Petunia went along. Lily suspects that were it not for Vernon things would be different, and she hopes that Dudley will grow up different from his father. From the photos she's seen it does not seem likely, and as she remembers the three chins and the displeased expression on her nephew's face she is filled with disappointment. Petunia could have done so much better.

She and Hannah walk into the Cauldron and she orders two butterbeers. Tom smiles serenely and pours and when she lets him keep the change his smile widens.

"How's the family Mrs. Potter?" He asks, and she assures him that all is well. They chat a little while Hannah looks for a table and deposits her many bags onto a chair. Lily offered to shrink them for her but Hannah would have none of it.

"The fun is in carrying many bags!" She exclaimed, and Lily didn't bother arguing.

Now they sit at the table sipping butterbeer, and Hannah remarks that ordinary beer never tastes that good.

"Oh yes, I quite agree. Even if I never knew of butterbeer I wouldn't drink the usual stuff."

"Yes. Sirius is always saying how muggles are so amazing at everything, but I think he really takes it too far. He is determined to teach Athena to ride that motorbike any day now."

"No!"

"Oh yes. I told him it was a) illegal and b) very dangerous, but did he listen? No, he thinks she should have what he didn't."

"I suppose he's just trying to make her childhood the opposite of his own. He's always hated his parents."

"I know. I can't blame him though - he took me to Grimmauld place once and I met his mother's portrait and let me tell you, she is the vilest woman on Earth. The things she said to us, I thought he'd kill her. Or burn her, or something. I don't see why he doesn't, he hates her so much."

"There's a spell on it, it can't be moved. And you haven't met his old house elf. Sirius sold him as soon as he got the place, but not before the elf hid away half of the dark artifacts and ranted about the greatness of the House of Black."

"Couldn't Sirius forbid him to do that?"

"Well, I guess. But I gather the house elf was rather cruel to him as a child."

"But that was on the master's orders."

"I don't know about that. I think he genuinely believed in pureblood supremacy and all that rot."

Hannah grimaces and finishes her drink and they walk Out of the room. As they enter Diagon Alley Lily is once again engulfed in the bustle of the main street, her eyes roaming the stalls, excitement mounting at the thought of buying everything that catches her eye. The street is busy, but they are doing their Christmas shopping early so they can still walk into all the stores, and the queues do not yet reach Knockturn Alley.

James has arranged with Sirius that they would be getting Athena the Nimbus 2000 and it is with trepidation that Lily makes her way to the Quiddich store. Like always, it is packed with small children and loud adults arguing over teams, models and tactics. The Nimbus occupies the center of the vast room, its sleek handle gleaming in the unnaturally bright light. It is surrounded at all sides and there is much gushing. Behind it, on a poster, is the prototype for the Nimbus 2001. Lily sighs as she looks at it. She head from James that the difference in quality between Harry's current broom and this one is huge and she fears that this is Harry's birthday present. Or one of his birthday presents.

She orders the broom to be delivered to Athena on the 25th and the clerk behind the counter starts talking excitedly, mentioning special offers and the possibility of buying five for the price of four. She thanks him and leaves, but not before Hannah asks why they can't all get Nimbuses. Lily is not sure Hannah can fly, and the idea strikes her as interesting.

"Have you tried flying?"

"No. I'd like to, but the broom won't go up and Sirius won't let me jump out a window or from the roof on it."

She sounds annoyed and Lily hides a smile, and motions for Hannah to follow her into the bookstore. Harry asked for a certain book on advanced charms and when she finds the deceptively serious tome she is almost afraid to buy it. The charms inside are difficult to master, but they are all centered around wreaking havoc. She pays and puts it, shrunk, in one of her pockets, where she would later put the magical camera and quickening boots that are also meant for Harry. On second thought, she also buys the sixth book in the "Centaur's prophecy" series, and puts it in the same pocket. Harry loved the fifth one, "Changing Stars", and the series is very popular with kids.

"What's that about?" Hannah asks.

"I'm not too sure, I only read the first one, but I think they are all about two children who are avoiding their destiny, and every book it seems like they succeeded, but in fact they never really do."

...

Athena can't wait for Christmas. She knows she will get a broom, and she hopes it will be the new Nimbus, but of course when she asked her Dad he said he'd get her a Shooting Star, the most ancient broom she ever heard of. A few weeks ago she read in the Quibbler that Shooting Stars give you boils because there are creatures living in them. Her dad says not to believe everything, or anything she reads in the Quibbler, but it's fun to fool her mom into thinking that rumple-horned snorkacks really exist. Her mom, in true muggle fashion, after getting past the usual skepticism, has grown to believe that anything at all is possible with the use of magic. Athena knows this to be wrong, has herself experienced the proof of magic's real and tangible limits, when her dog was ran over by the Night Bus. She remembers still, although she was only four at the time, the way the small terrier lay on the road, it's neck almost cut in two and it's eyes still and dark and lifeless like the eyes of a toy. She had screamed, then, and ran to her dad and asked him to cast a spell to bring Brian back, and when her father held her in his arms and shook his head in defeat, when he told her there was no spell for that, she ran to the fireplace and took out the floo powder and burst into Dumbledore's office, hoping he could do what her Dad could not.

They got a new dog several years later and now Han is lying in her lap as she writes a letter to Harry.

_"Dear Harry,_

She begins, brow furrowed in an efforts to remember all the proper rules of letter writing.

_"I'm writing to tell you about a strange thing that my teacher said this morning._

_It was my Maths teacher and she is called Mrs. McDonald and she is very nice but also a bit strange, because she's a muggle. I know that muggles don't know about magic, which is silly because it's all around us, but she said today that Santa was real. I thought muggles didn't believe in anything like that, and WE know there's no Santa. Daddy told me how it was a very old wizard with lots and lots of grandchildren who gave them all presents and who was called that, and how he lived a long time ago, but now friends and family give presents but not Santa. I thought muggles knew that. They know about Merlin!_

_Do you like Hogwarts? I want to be in the same house as you but Daddy says I shouldn't. Will you be my friend if I'm in Griffindor?_

_What does Godric want for Christmas?_

_Will you come home?_

_I hope I'll see you soon, and that you'll win the next Quiddich game._

_Love,_

_Athena_

She finishes the letter and stands up, Han jumping to the floor with an indignant whine.

"Sorry Han, I have to send Harry my letter." She says, and walks out the room and to the attic, where Peter, their owl, perches proudly on the edge of the windowsill.

"This is for Harry." She instructs, and ties the letter to his leg. Peter hoots and flies always and she looks after him until he is out of sight. Then she goes down to the kitchen to see if she can wheedle some cookies out of Milly, the kitchen house elf, before supper.


	10. Chapter 10: Christmas holidays

**Author's note:** Thank you all for following me and for the reviews. They are always welcome. Enjoy!

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**10. Christmas holidays**

On the train home, Harry sits with Neville, Hermione, Ron, Blaize and Daphne and they play exploding snap and look at pictures in Neville's advanced Herbology book. The sky outside is bright and the fresh snow sparkles in the sunlight, and Harry is happier than he had ever been. He is going home, to his parents, to spend Christmas with his family and friends. He is not alone, not responsible for the survival of hundreds of people, not supposed to be anything other than what he wishes to become.

"I think I'll play professional Quiddich when I grow up." He declares.

"Yeah mate, we'll play for the Cannons together!" Ron replies.

Hermione mimes sticking two fingers down her throat and says that she would like to work for the ministry, and frowns at Blaize's disgusted expression.

"I'll marry a billionaire..." Daphne says dreamily.

Harry chokes, remembering the other world where, at the time when he left, she had been engaged to a guy who tried, unsuccessfully, to invent new spells, while working part time as Hagrid's right hand. He earned enough to live on, but Harry doubts his Gringotts vault was even slightly bigger than the Weasleys'.

"Hey, do you guys want to come over to my place on the 26th?" Lily said Christmas Day was reserved for family, but Harry supposes the 26th should be okay.

"Can't, we're going skiing. I'll be in France for two weeks." Hermione replies regretfully, while the others nod agreement and Daphne says:

"You're rich, aren't you?"

As they near the station Harry remembers Flamel and, in a whisper, bending forward so the Griffindors seated across the bench would hear, says:

"You know how that dog on the third floor was guarding something?" At the confused looks some of them give him, Harry realizes that not everyone had been present.

"Blaize, Hermione and I went into the third floor corridor by accident and we found a three headed dog there". He is hesitant to confide in Daphne, but he supposes it is alright. Everyone gasps and Ron says: "How come no one told me?"

And Hermione glares at Harry and mutters:

"I'm never opening locked doors ever again."

When they quiet down, Harry continues. He has been thinking about how to proceed, but in the end he decides to give Neville the chance to face Voldemort and to explain away his knowledge in some way eleven year olds can accept. He feels very much like Dumbledore in this moment, and it gives him the chills.

"So anyway, the dog was standing on this trapdoor thing and so I suppose it's guarding something, and I know what."

"How'd you know?"

"I thought no one else noticed the trapdoor."

"Maybe it's gold?"

"What if it's a secret passage?"

Harry shakes his head.

"You know how in September someone tried to rob Gringotts?"

They nod, but Ron looks confused and Neville asks: "Why would Dumbledore rob Gringotts?"

"He wouldn't. But he took something from the vaults because he knew someone would try to steal it."

They stare, and Hermione asks, doubtfully: "Harry, do you really think Hogwarts is a better place for something that Gringotts? And how would professor Dumbldore know if someone was going to rob Gringotts? And how do you know what they wanted to steal?"

Harry sighs, mentally cursing Hermione's intelligence and knack for asking questions.

"Firstly, Hogwarts IS safer than Gringotts even, secondly, Dumbledore is badass and knows everything, thirdly, I know 'cause I saw Dumbledore carrying it to the third floor corridor when I still had my cloak." He swallows, hoping the lie will pass unnoticed.

They are very quiet for a while, and then Neville asks:

"Why are you telling us?"

"'Cause you're my friends, and 'cause I think someone will try to steal the stone again, only they'll succeed this time, if we don't keep an eye on them."

"That's stupid, if Dumbledore's protecting it, it's safe. And what is it anyway?"

Harry thinks that yes, it is in fact safe, but that Neville should meet their, or his, Nemesis, as he replies:

"The philosopher's stone! Hagrid said it had something to do with Flamel when I asked him, and by the way, he also said the dog was called Fluffy." He'd made a point of pestering Hagrid for information, to the expected result.

There are gasps from Hermione and Daphne, and Blaize mouths an appalled: "Fluffy?!", but the others simply stare uncomprehendingly.

"What's a philosopher's stone?" Neville asks, sounding as if he is remembering something he's heard before. Harry is about to answer but Hermione beats him to it.

"It's a stone that turns objects to gold and helps produce an elixir of life that allows one to live forever. The only known working philosopher's stone was created by Nicholas Flamel, who is now many centuries old."

"Who'd want to steal it?"

"Who wouldn't?"

"Voldemort might."

Ron flinches and glowers at Harry and the others simply stare again.

"He's dead." Neville's voice is shaky but determined and his eyes are very cold as he speaks.

"He's not. Didn't you say your scar hurt?"

Neville gives Harry a betrayed look and turns away. "So? It doesn't mean You-Know-...V-Voldemort is alive!" He is clearly frightened, his face gone pale and his tone rising an octave.

The train stops and they jump.

"Look-" Harry says, talking quickly now: "I thought I'd tell you so during the holidays we could all think about who could be trying to steal the stone, it's not like I'm asking you to fight Voldemort." Yet.

They are still stunned and Harry chooses to leave the compartment, grabbing his trunk and stumbling into the corridor, and out onto the platform. It's filled with people, families reunited, and he looks around trying to locate his parents when the breath is knocked out of him as Athena barrages into him and raps her arms around him.

"Harry! I saw you first!" She gushes, and he is trying to extract himself from her grasp when he sees Lily, Sirius and Hannah walking towards him.

"Where's Dad?" He asks, and he knows he shouldn't worry but he cannot help himself.

"He's got work now, honey." Lily soothes, and, as Athena moves away, kisses him on the cheek. "Ready to go home?"

...

James comes home to the scent of burning candles and freshly baked cookies. It is dark and he is very tired, his robes hanging around him in loose folds, almost too heavy. They caught a death eater today, Webbings, and he was too stubborn to go to prison. James cast a stunner but the force of it sent Webbings over the bridge and down onto the ice. James can see the blood in his mind's eye, pooling around the Death Eater's head, the man's eyes staring up at him, so surprised. And no one judged. No one said James was wrong, or that he should have cast more carefully. That, in truth, is what scares James, not the fact that Death Eaters still prop up all over the country, or that last time one of the aurors nearly lost an eye, but that so few cared that Webbings died. James cared. He hated killing, and although it was inadvertent he blames himself. He said as much when he broke the news to Webbings's parents and younger brother, at which point that brother nearly punched him in the face. James ducked in time, auror training kicking in, and disapparated, but instead of going straight home he landed a mile away and walked, deep in thought.

As he opens the door he is greeted with the sound of rushing feet and Harry's smiling face and a loud: "Dad!" He ruffles the boy's hair and walks on into the kitchen, to kiss Lily.

He knows she can see something is wrong, and as she pours them tea and hands out the cookies she looks at him questioningly over Harry's head.

"Dad, is it ok if I invited a bunch of people to come over on the 26th?"

"Sure. Unless...you didn't invite Malfoy, did you?"

He is relieved when Harry shakes his head with a look that says "Duh." He can accept Harry as a Slytherin, but he will not have a Death Eaters' son in his home.

"So, how is school? Have you got competition?"

They both know what he is asking about and Harry grins, while Lily frowns and pretends not to listen.

"Well, there are the Weasley twins, Fred and George, they're Ron's brothers, I think I've mentioned them, but anyway they found your old map and at first I thought we'd be like rivals but we mostly prank together now. You should have seen their faces when I told them I knew the Marauders!"

James can't help feeling proud, proud of his son and of the heritage he himself left. He determines to remember to mention this to Moony and Padfoot. They'll be happy, if a touch sheepish.

"By the way, dad, did you know Blaize's father helped invent the Wolfsbane potion?"

"No. But I bet Remus knows."

They told Harry about Remus's furry little problem as soon as they deemed him old enough to keep a secret, and six year old Harry had looked at them, at Remus, and asked if he could help. They had all sighed with relief, although James had not doubted Harry for a second, and Remus had taken Harry in his arms and hugged him and whispered "Thank you".

When they finish the tea, Lily says:

"Time for bed now. You can read for a bit before sleep."

Harry starts to protest, something like surprise flickering across his face.

"I don't care if you went to bed at 3 in the morning at Hogwarts, here, I decide when you have to sleep, so if you want to get that cloak back you better hurry up."

Harry groans and stalks out, and they all know he will not do as Lily said. James wonders if there's any point in punishing him, but he imagines Harry won't even get caught. He supposes that's good.

….

In the morning of the 26th Ron wakes up a second before his mother raps on the door. He yawns and stretches and makes a face at the Chudley Canons poster, asking for sympathy. He feels, as always, that it is too early to be getting up, and all his energy is reserved for Hogwarts, not home.

He eats the delicious breakfast and reads the back of his father's newspaper and races Ginny up the stairs. She wanted to come with him, to meet Neville, but he decided that his friends could do without her crush on the boy-who-lived.

As he steps through the flames and comes out into a large sitting room he is gripped again with the familiar envy, the determination that whatever else happens in his life, he will not be poor. The Potters' sitting room is beige, sofas forming a square around a glass table, photos and pictures hanging from the walls, and a VT, or no, TV, standing by the wall. He stares at it reverently, coming closer to look at the buttons and antennae.

"Hi Ron", Harry says.

He turns around and sees him in the doorway, with Blaize standing next to him, saying:

"I was surprised too, I had no idea what it is. Wait for Harry to turn it on, it's like, I don't know, muggles are scary!"

Harry takes something from the table and pushes a button, and the TV comes to life, tiny people moving across the screen, a woman shouting something.

"You can't often get a signal with all the magic about, so it's mainly for watching films." Harry explains.

Ron stares at him, at the TV and whispers, awed:

"How can muggles do something like this?"

Harry smiles:

"They've also been to the moon and have machines that can look inside your body at your bones and see what's wrong."

Ron drops down on one of the sofas, trying to wrap his head around the fact. Unlike many pureblood families the Weasleys do not hate or despise muggles, but apart from Arthur and the twins they look down on them, and Ron has always believed, without giving it much thought, that muggles were somehow weaker, lesser people, incapable of the things that wizards did.

"I think you broke him", Blaize says, when there's a flash of green flames and Neville enters the room. And looks at the TV.

When they are all there Harry takes them on a tour of the house and grounds, including the Quiddich pitch he and his father made several years ago. That provokes a game and, as James happens to be home, they divide into teams of three - Harry, Neville and Blaize on one team, Ron, Daphne and James on the other. Daphne and Neville don't like Quiddich much, so they go to sit on the ground after ten minutes. After an hour, Ron scores the last winning goal. He supposes it's not fair when James is one of the best chasers in the history of Hogwarts, but he can't bring himself to care.

A while later, they are in Harry's room. There's a portrait of a stern man on the wall and the curtains are silver and green but apart from that, Ron feels that this room is perfect. Harry has opened a notebook and is showing them a list of teachers, Quirrell at the top. He is talking excitedly, pointing out that Quirrell is suspicious.

"Oh stop that, will you? If we're looking for someone suspicious, then no offense, but Snape wins first prize."

"He does not!"

"Does too. Have you seen him?"

"I'm scared of him." Neville mumbles.

"Exactly." Harry looks smug. "This means he can't be trying to steal the stone because if we think he's suspicious Dumbledore definitely thought so when he hired him."

"He's a Death Eater!" Ron exclaims.

"So? He confessed, and now he's good." Harry sounds obstinate, but Ron can see that his words sound silly even to Blaize and Daphne.

"Harry..." Daphne begins: "I wouldn't go so far as to say he's good. He talks to Lucius Malfoy, and to Theodore Nott's family."

"And yours." Neville says. Daphne blushes and looks down and Blaize glares at him, and Ron's thinks that this is getting out of hand. On second thought, Neville has a point. He is about to say as much when Harry intervenes:

"Let's not blame people for what their parents did or didn't do." He looks almost angry and Ron wonders why. And voice at the back of his head is whispering that maybe, Harry is turning Slytherin, and Ron is fighting hard to ignore it.

"Let's talk about something else." Neville says, and, grudgingly, they switch topics. Harry ruffles through his collection of films and pulls out a cassette of something called "the terminator".

"Let's watch this." He offers, and they run down the stairs and a minute later they are lost in the movie, and Ron thinks this is the most incredible thing he has ever seen in his entire life.

...

At the airport Hermione wishes she could have stayed longer. She loves Hogwarts, but skiing was more fun than she expected, and the history of the French wizarding world fascinates her. On the other hand, she is eager to find out what the others think about the philosophers stone. She hasn't reached a conclusion, but Harry's explanation sounded odd, and she cannot shake the feeling that he is hiding something. She thinks of his grades, of the annoying way he writes tests excellently without studying much, of the way he seems to know things that no one else does. She tries to tell herself it is not true, that she is imagining the way professor Dumbledore's probing gaze seems so often drawn to Harry and the way Harry doesn't really go into detail about that very brave friend of his mothers. She hopes she is wrong, hopes, because Harry is good, and she knows it, and she does not want to be mistaken.

They board the plane and she sits between her parents, her mother pestering her once again about her schoolwork. During the holidays Hermione grew to realize that in the space of four months she has become distant from them, and that she will only become more different. Her world is not theirs, but the colorful magical one, one filled with secret passages and cloaked wizards and the persistent fear of Voldemort that she has yet to develop but that is always present at the mention of You-Know-Who. She loves that world, loves it for accepting her and for giving her friends, for providing an escape from the mundane school she used to attend, where she was an outcast.

Her parents have not yet grasped that they lost they daughter when she got her letter, but Hermione knows from talking to Madame Pince that only a few muggleborns stay close to their families. From Harry's words, his mother is one of them, but Hermione, though loving her parents, feels they do not understand her.

"Perhaps that'll change in the summer." She thinks, as the plane takes off. She hopes it will, because she knows it will hurt them, and knows, not unlike Harry, the muggle world has much to offer.


	11. Chapter 11: Letting go of the past

**Author's note:** Thank you to my beloved followers. Please comment, it's what keeps me writing. Hope you like this chapter!

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**11. Letting go of the past**

As time passes Harry begins to forget about the Stone. Slowly, gradually, as this timeline moves farther and farther from his past, he becomes more connected with the people around him, no longer comparing this Ron to the one who lives in his memory. Strangely, it was Ginny who started this process and it is because of her blush at sight of Neville that Harry decided, right there, on the platform, about to board the Express, that he must stop judging this world like his own. For a second, he was jealous, seeing Ginny ignore him so completely, but in the next instant he was happy and free, and he knew it was for the best. He wonders if she and Neville will end up together this time around.

Weeks pass, his first Quiddich game ending smoothly and effortlessly with Slytherin winning by 180 points. Harry cheers, and Flint praises his skill, and even Snape cracks a smile and says: "That was a good catch, Potter."

The party afterwards is unlike any he has ever been to. There are no Weasley twins to smuggle in Honeydukes products and Butterbeer, but instead Harry is greeted with delicious food prepared by the Hogwarts house-elves upon request. His housemates are suddenly friendlier, sixth years asking him to join in their conversations, and Harry is unexpectedly glad of the opportunity to talk to people closer to his own mental age. They are surprised by his attitude, but if any of them are suspicious they know to hide it well. Being a Slytherin is all about giving a good impression and house loyalty is often acted out no matter the true feelings.

The party is comprised of many little groups of people and he finds himself privy to such talk as would make his Father go for his wand. It comes mostly from the older students, some of whom remember the first war, and not a few of them talk wistfully of days when the Dark Lord was in power. They are not, however, all blindly following in their parents' footsteps. From several students Harry hears words like: "Not much choice, is there?" And "If I didn't hate Mudbloods, my father would disown me." It scares Harry, partly because he knows that one of the reasons for the Slytherins' rush to Voldemort's side when war broke out is the other houses' mistrust or outright hatred of them. Their reputation precedes them wherever they go and if they have little money few roads remain open. Here, in this common room, alliances are formed, and it is partly out of necessity that modern Slytherins become progressively more ambitious and sly.

"Harry?" Daphne comes to rest on the couch next to him.

"Yeah? What's up?"

"I think you might be right about Quirrel."

He is not expecting this and nearly chokes on the piece of cheesecake he is eating.

"Really? Why?"

"Well…" She considers: "At first, I just thought you had a point about him being almost too harmless looking, but then I noticed how he was muttering to himself this one time, and he does keep adjusting his turban rather, like he's afraid it'll fall off, and maybe he's just being nervous but I think it could be something else." She waits, looking at him expectantly as if trying to gauge his reaction.

"Exactly!" he says, and thinks: "Thank Merlin she's a Slytherin!" because this would never, and had never occurred to a student of another house. Daphne looks pleased with herself and asks:

"But what can we do about it? And anyway, do you really think Quirrell needs the philosopher's stone for, you know, him? For the Dark Lord?"

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, doesn't it make sense that Voldemort would want to regain his power?"

"Shhhhh, Harry, don't say the name! Are you stupid? Of course it makes sense, but that means saying his name is even more dangerous!"

"Oh come on! My dad says it, and my mom, and their friends, and Dumbledore too."

"Well, Dumbledore's the only person the Dark Lord ever feared, isn't he, and your parents are both aurors. You're just a kid." She looks at him pleadingly and Harry wants to strangle the man who first said "You-Know-Who".

…..

Fred looks over at George and grins when he sees the other twin holding his trunk in both hands. It took them a while to empty it out and even longer to find the boggart, but they know it was worth it.

The idea was his, but George figured out how to set the plan in motion, and it was he, in the end, who found the boggart lurking under the sink in Murtle's abandoned toilet. This is often how their pranks work, and it fills them with the usual excitement.

Of course, they never tried to prank Harry before. After he revealed that he knew the Marauders they teamed up, and now the whole school knows about the trio and fears it. Fred supposes Filch's greatest dream is to see them expelled, and on their part, they strive to come as close to fulfilling it as they can, without actually getting kicked out. Sometimes Fred wonders what it would take for Dumbles to give up on them.

There's a first time for everything though, and the twins feel that losing the Quiddich game and enduring Wood's great sulk for a week warrants a prank. Fred hopes Harry hasn't heard about boggarts, or at least about how to stop them. When they learned about them in Defense this year Fred loved the idea of "Ridikkulus", and this prank has the potential to be hilarious. He is only sorry they do not have a camera to capture this moment.

He sees Harry walking down the corridor in their direction. The boy's face is impassive and calm and as Fred leaps out from behind a suit of armor he jumps just a little and Fred revels in the knowledge that he can startle Harry in this way.

"Hello, fellow prankster." He begins.

"We have something incredible to show you." George continues, stepping out of a secret passage to the right. Harry looks at them suspiciously before following, eyes darting from one to the other in hopes of finding a giveaway.

"Here." Fred says, and points to the trunk.

"This, is an object of great value-"

"That required a lot of hard work-"

"On our part."

"So we hope it produces-"

"The desired effect."

And with that, George flips open the lid. And the twins stare. They expected to see a zombie, or a spider, or perhaps McGonnagal, or maybe even a blood-soaked vampire, and to witness Harry's terror and feeble attempts at a "protego", followed by laughter when the twins dispelled the creature. What they did not expect was a man who looked very much like Harry's father, or perhaps an older Harry, judging by the eyes, thin and pale, with Neville's scar on his forehead, standing in front of them with a wand in his hand. Or Harry, with a look of unnatural calm, flicking his wand and casting "Ridikkulus", saying "Good-bye" as the figure turned into a clown and pushing the lid of the trunk down.

Harry looks at them, and Fred can see that he is more shaken than he lets on, but he just says:

"That wasn't very funny", and walks away, leaving Fred and George to stand in the corridor, the trunk on the floor between them, wondering what in the name of Merlin's dirty socks Harry has for a boggart.

…

Hermione runs up to the Slytherin table as soon as she finds Harry there, and she tries to ignore the curious looks the other students are giving her. One of the fifth years scowls at her but she scowls right back and comes up to Harry.

"Hi, Hermione", he says, turning round from his conversation with Marcus Flint.

"Hi." She leans forward and starts to whisper, her voice barely audible. "Ron and Neville were there when it happened, but I thought you ought to know, 'cause you're Hagrid's friend. I figured maybe you could talk him out of it, make him see sense. 'Cause you see, he hatched a dragon!"

Harry sighs, and Hermione is astonished to see that he is not surprised. His voice is exasperated as he relies:

"He should know how dangerous this is!"

"Yes, and Ron already got hurt helping to look after it, Norbert nearly bit his arm off. You've gotta persuade him to let Norbert go with Charlie, Ron's older brother, to live in Romania with other dragons. They're flying by tonight and Norbert must go with them."

"Yeah, I think I'll talk to him today after classes are over. Do you need help getting him to these people? I could give you my cloak…"

She is relieved, and, however puzzling Harry's reaction was, she cannot dwell on it now.

"Oh would you help, really? We have to give the dragon to them at midnight from the Astronomy tower, but Ron's in the Hospital Wing and Neville is, well, he can be rather clumsy. If you'd help me carry Norbert to the tower, that'd be perfect, and I'm sure Hagrid would be more willing to give it up if you were there."

Harry looks rather doubtful but nods, and she feels, for the first time this week, that things are going well. The feeling remains with her all through the day, through Hagrid's pleading and tearful good-byes, and through the long walk up under the Invisibility Cloak. It is strange and exciting to be out at night, when the hallways are dark and menacing and every suit of armor seems almost alive. When they reach the top, panting with exertion, Charlie and his friends are waiting, and as they hand Norbert over an owl swoops by and hoots loudly in Hermione's ear. In her joy, she hugs Harry for a second, and then they start down the stairs. They are nearly at the bottom when Harry swears and rushes up again, to return a minute later with his cloak wrapped around him.

"Oh, Harry, how awful! We could have been seen! But you really shouldn't say things like that." She admonishes, and can just see his grin in the gloomy corridor.

He walks her to the Griffindor tower and she is about to go in when something occurs to her.

"Hey Harry, about that thing with…Fluffy."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know if it's Quirrell, but do you really think it's for Voldemort? I mean, do you really believe he's alive?"

Harry looks uncomfortable and answers too quickly, causing alarm bells to go off in her head.

"I do think he's alive. I know Dumbledore does", he replies, and turns to go without so much as a good-bye. She looks at the space where his head, now invisible, used to be, and as she turns to go through the portrait hole she wonders what it is that makes him behave so oddly, and what secret, dark or not, he is hiding. Hermione Granger never let a problem go unsolved, and she is not about to start now. Determined to figure it out, she goes to bed with the notion of spending more time with Harry from now on.


	12. Chapter 12: Not quite opposite

**Author's note: **Hi guys! Sorry for the long wait, it was horrid of me, but i've been away and didn't have a lot of free time. I'll try to do better in future!

Please comment, that's what keeps me writing.

* * *

**12. Not quite opposite**  
That night, Harry dreams again of the boggart, or perhaps of himself, standing near the ruins of Hogwarts a few days after the end of the war. He didn't expect his boggart to change its shape, but on second thought he supposes it is only logical. He knows how to deal with dementors, whereas going back to that other world, where he had no family and little chance of happiness, is something he fears, something he will use all his powers to avoid, and something he does not understand how to escape. The other life seems nothing but a shadow now, a nightmare he had before going to Hogwarts, but every once in a while he is struck with the evidence of things to come, with the knowledge of what the future may bring, and it feels like a physical blow, and he wakes up sweaty and scared, and does not go near the Room of Requirement for days on end.  
Or perhaps, it is only the fear of inevitability, of fate, of things turning out the same way as before, that changed his boggart into a new and unexpected shape. Because why else would he, Neville, Ron and Hermione be standing by the door to Fluffy's room a few hours later getting up the nerve to enter and face the three-headed monster. Harry is not afraid, and he was not afraid in the morning, when he went up to the Griffindor table and tapped Neville on the shoulder, and when he started telling them about his suspicions, and when Hermione ran to Hagrid to verify Harry's story. He knows she suspects something, but he also knows noone could think of the truth. It is to incredible, to inexplicable to be brought into consideration, and Hermione needs facts to found any theory.  
"Alohomora", Neville says, and steps into the room. Harry puts Hagrid's wooden flute to his lips and begins to play, the rough sound strangely soothing in the darkness. One by one they jump into the hole under the trap door and disappear, Harry landing last to find Neville and Hermione yelling at Ron to relax.  
"We need light, it's scared of light!" Neville exclaims, and as Hermione says:  
"There's no wood, and no flashlight!" Harry wants to laugh. Apparently, some things never change, and Hermione's muggle habits are still very obvious in her behavior and manner. "Just as well", he thinks, as the plant loosens its grip and shies away from the sunlight streaming from the young witch's wand, "That's what's gonna save us all those times."  
Ron clambers out of the remains of the Devil's Snare shaking all over and nearly falling over in his rush to the door. They follow at a more careful pace, and when the door opens to reveal hundreds of flying keys Harry smirks. This is the one thing he can still do in this timeline, the one way he can contribute to the quest. In his mind's eye he can already see the large ancient key flying through the air, its battered wings fluttering faster and faster.  
Neville and Ron run to the other end of the room and push on the heavy door, trying to open it, and, failing that, casting "Alohomora" in hushed voices.  
"I don't think it's going to open that way", Hermione says meditatively, looking up at the hundreds if keys overhead: "I think that broom is there for a reason."  
She points to a rusty Hogwarts broom by the wall and Neville moans: "Oh, no!" And Ron frowns up and says:  
"Do you mean we have to catch the key? It's gotta be big, the keyhole's really big."  
Harry grins.  
"I thinks this is where I come in", he says, and mounts the broom, ignoring Hermione's disapproving glare and swooshing up, up, higher and higher to the beams of the ceiling, where he looks down and searches, with the ease of years of practice, for a particular old key in the multitude of newer ones. He sees it, a few feet above the ground, and leans into the broom handle, urging the ancient broom to go faster, and his knees are touching the ground when his hand closes around the cold metal key.

Neville is terrified. He will never admit to it, but all the while, through the trapdoor and the troll's room and beyond, he didn't think there would be anyone there. Now, staring at the vials of potions, remembering Ron lying on the floor and waiting for Hermione to figure out Snape's riddle, he can no longer ignore the facts and he hopes his fear is not obvious in his face.  
"There." Hermione says, pointing victoriously at a tiny glass vial: "That's what's gonna take us to the next room."  
"There's only enough for one sip in that thing!" Neville says, after a second.  
Harry and Hermione exchange glances. Harry looks at him and says, quietly:  
"You have to go on."  
Neville is stunned into silence, unable for a moment to reply, to grasp what he's just heard. Then it hits him, and he feels like laughing.  
"Me? Why me? Why shouldn't you go, you got us here!"  
Harry looks strangely calm but Hermione is crying, tears falling down her cheeks and her lip trembling as she says:  
"I'm so sorry Neville, but Harry's right, you're the one who should go. You are the greatest wizard of our time, Neville, and-"  
"Greatest?" He can hear his voice, as though from far away, and he knows Hermione must be mad: "I was a baby when Voldemort died, and i didn't even kill him really, and what have I done since then? I'm only good at herbology, and you and Harry are brilliant at everything, and Harry doesn't even look scared now, and he's a Slytherin! I can't do this, I don't know anything about this Stone or anything like that! All year it's been Harry who came up with this stuff and who talked about the mirror of Erised and Fluffy. Harry, not me. I didn't do anything!" He is shouting now, and whoever it is in the other room must surely hear, but it makes no difference. He wants to prove himself, of course he does, but he is so afraid of disappointing everyone, so scared of betraying, somehow, the memory of his parents, that he cannot bring himself to take the vial of potion. Harry is always part of the events, always appearing to save the day at the last second, and Neville wonders why he is not a Griffindor.  
Neville remembers now the moment he stepped in front of the mirror of Erised. Harry had said he'd found it by accident and that he supposed it showed one's greatest dreams. Neville thinks it must be true, because he saw his parents. He stared, and his mom smiled at him, and he felt longing and hope and a mad desire to step into the mirror, into that world on the other side of the glass where his parents were alive and well. He returned later, and then once again, until Dumbledore stopped him from coming. He shudders, remembering the Headmaster's penetrating eyes and the way the old man seemed to start at the mention of Harry.  
"So mr. Potter knows what the mirror shows? How admirable, books that mention it are hard to find", Dumbledore said, and Neville felt, absurdly, like a tattle-tale.  
"Neville-" Harry begins, but Hermione interrupts.  
"You saved me from the Boggart, and stood up to Malfoy, and you came here with us without hesitating for a second! You spent years being the center of attention and you didn't let it change you. I'm just clever, I don't have that kind of courage. And Harry..." She trails of, leaving the sentence unfinished, but Neville understands. Harry is different and sly and they both know he has a secret of some kind. But still...  
"Harry saved you from the Boggart, I didn't do anything." He protests, trying to reason with her.  
"Hermione would have died by the time I got there if you hadn't come." There is a strange look in Harry's eyes, almost pity, and he looks away from Neville with the kind of jerky movement that makes Neville want to question his words: "Besides, I'm sure it's not going to be the last time you face Voldemort."  
"Why not?" Neville is dumbfounded, unsure if Harry is joking.  
"Because you won't kill him tonight, I don't think, just send him away. Probably." Harry smiles and turns to Hermione: "Which is our bottle?"  
"That one. But I think maybe one of us should stay here and wait for Neville to come out." She bites her lip. It is obvious that she wants to go back and check on Ron, and Harry tells her to go. She hugs them both, and downs half the bottle, and runs through the flames and out of sight, turning around at the last second to look at them and whisper: "Good Luck".  
"It's time", Harry says, and hands Neville the tiny vial. Suddenly Neville is tired of arguing, and he feels dream-like and alone as he takes the vial in his hand and drinks.  
"I should have told Hermione to owl Dumbledore", he says.  
"I'm sure she'll think of it on her own", Harry replies. "Now remember, don't trust anything he says and make sure he doesn't get the stone, use brute force, if necessary." Harry instructs, a wry smile twisting his lips at the last sentence.  
"Thanks."  
Neville doesn't have the strength to feel angry, or upset. He simply walks into the flames without a second glance and, as he enters the room beyond, his eyes are drawn to a tall mirror in the middle of the room, and to a man standing in front of him.  
"Ah, Longbottom", Quirrell says without a hint of a stutter: "I did not expect to find you here, boy. I didn't think you had enough brains to cast a spell, much less figure out my plan."  
Neville shudders, and he opens his mouth but no words would come out. He coughs and tries again, and his voice sounds terrified and childish in the stone room.  
"Well I did figure it out. Harry helped me, and Ron and Hermione."  
Quirrell laughs unpleasantly.  
"So I was right. You are incapable of thought, so others think for you. Truly, my master has chosen well."  
"Chosen what?"  
Quirrell ignores the question, choosing to stare into the mirror of Erised. Neville has to stop himself from running away, thinking only: "I've got to get to the stone before he does, I've got to get to the stone before he does."  
"Use the boy."  
Neville jumps, his heart beating erratically, when he hears a third voice, quiet and deadly as the hissing of a snake.  
"Right. Come here, tell me what you see", Quirrell snaps, gripping Neville by the arms and pushing him to stand in front of the mirror. Neville glances at the smooth glass, and sees, to his surprise, himself, taking the stone out of his own pocket. All of a sudden, he feels a weight in his hand, and a rough outline of a stone, and he stuffs it into his pocket and hopes against all hope that Quirrell didn't notice. He tries to think, thoughts like butterflies snapping their tiny wings in his head, scrambled and frenzied and lost.  
"I-" he begins, and wonders what to say. He cannot tell the truth, but just as certainly he cannot bring himself to mention his parents to this man who serves their killer, not ever. Suddenly, he remembers Harry looking at him with pity and Harry pointing him to the mirror and Harry summoning Trevor on the Hogwarts express, the action, at this moment, seeming to Neville a kind of condescension, as though the other boy were looking down on him even then. Neville has had to deal with the adoration of millions of people and all the while he has been afraid that they would be disappointed. Now, facing Quirrell, he blames Harry for what is happening, and he fears that Harry, with his strange friendship and intelligent and the determination to lead Neville here, is somehow intent on proving Neville to be weak. And Neville is angry, really, properly angry, and he says:  
"I see Harry Potter as me, and me as him, I'm seeker and people like me for who I am, and Dumbledore says I'm the bravest, smartest person in the school, and-"  
"Liar!"  
The hiss cuts through his words, and Neville falls silent, no longer afraid but only certain that in this moment he would die.  
"Let me talk to him", the voice commands.  
Quirrell shakes his head, and they argue, and Neville knows it is futile and the voice- Voldemort, he thinks- suddenly stops, and Quirrell has his back to Neville, his thin hands slowly uncoiling the heavy turban from his head. And Neville stares into the face of a man who had inspired such fear, such hatred, such fanatical devotion, and all he can feel is pity for this creature, that is barely human, that is not dead but not living either.  
"Do you know who I am?" Voldemort asks, his cracked lips moving only slightly, his red eyes looking into Neville, as though peering into his very soul.  
"You killed my parents."  
"Only because I had to, But with the help of the stone we can bring them back, you and I."  
Neville thinks wildly that perhaps it is so, until reason returns to him.  
"But if you bring then back you'll still kill lots of other people, and anyways, why did you have to kill them, what had they done that was so different from the Connors, or the Potters for example? Why couldn't you kill some of them?!"  
For the first time in his life he voices the thought. At this moment, he is not the Boy-Who-Lived, or even someone exceptional, but simply a young boy who wants his parents back. Later, it will haunt him that he did not agree to Voldemort's offer. He will feel guilty, and scared, and he will need years to fully forgive himself for the decision. He will know he was right, that Voldemort was lying and that his return would bring pain and suffering and death, but in the back of his head Neville will hear, often, a quiet voice whispering: "So what?"  
"You parents were to strong, I had made a mistake when I chose pure bloods, and together, we will bring them back, and rule the world together. Just give me the stone!"  
"Never!"  
" Then you shall have to die too. Kill him."  
Quirrell lunges at him and Neville pushes him away with his hand, punching him in the nose and turning round, running to the flames, anywhere to escape Quirrell's grasp. But the expected killing curse does not come. Standing a few feet from the fire Neville turns around to see Quirrell, crumbling to the floor as his face is torn into tiny little pieces, changing into dust. There is a twin scream, and a shadow rises from the remains of the Defense Professor's robes, and rushes at Neville. And then, Neville knows no more, until he sees, as though through thick fog, two figures leaning over him, and hears, perhaps in a dream, Harry's voice, saying:

"Professor Dumbledore, sir, Voldemort's not gone forever, is he? Neville will have to fight him again."


End file.
